


Greater Love Hath None

by Bastet5



Series: The Wild Hunt [15]
Category: FBI: Most Wanted (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Flashbacks, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, No Major Character Death, Reminiscing, Suspense, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25033435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bastet5/pseuds/Bastet5
Summary: November 2019When the worst happens on a hunt for a fugitive, the team is faced with the possible loss of one of their own.
Relationships: Clinton Skye & Original Female Character(s), Kenny Crosby & Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Wild Hunt [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678864
Comments: 120
Kudos: 22





	1. Friday, November 22: Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Archive warning for safety considering the descriptions of the wounded agent's injuries in Chapter 1.

There was an old quote from Tecumseh, a Shawnee warrior and chieftain in the early 1800s, that Kateri had read once in a book when she was child and never forgotten:

“So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart. . . .When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.”

Kateri knew without a shadow of a doubt that she had a dangerous job, a fact that had only been highlighted by the Weitzen case two weeks earlier. _Not often we almost become sniper food three times in a week!!_ She had seen people die or almost bite the dust, fugitives and fellow agents alike. Sometimes she was the one behind the trigger that made that happen. Sometimes she was the one with blood seeping through her fingers as she desperately tried to bandage wounds or apply tourniquets as she waited for an ambulance to arrive. Sometimes she had been the one patching herself after an undercover mission went bad, waiting for the heat to die down so she could go home. She had been shot before and stabbed, and Kateri knew that one day she just might not make it back home. She knew that one day life and death might come down to a choice between her and one of her teammates or a victim.

There was no singing involved when the time to make that choice came.

There was no time to even shout.

There was no time to hesitate.

Just the time for one desperate run with the prayer that it would be enough.

* * *

The team was still in New York City and had been in and all around the near-vicinity of the city and its suburbs and outskirts during a weeklong hunt for John Cox, a cop-killer. By Friday, November 22, the hunt was now coming to a swift conclusion. The team had tracked him down to a large warehouse in one of the industrial districts of the city. The warehouse was deserted and half-full of abandoned junk with large windows at the top of towering walls that let in small squares of light scattered across the place.

While clearing the warehouse, Cox had nearly taken Kateri out first, coming out of nowhere and body-slamming her to the floor. The fall had knocked the wind out of her lungs, and her gun had skittered out of her reach, lost in the shadows that crisscrossed the floor. Cox had not even had time to get a blow in before Clinton was there, dragging him physically off of his partner. Kateri had lain gasping for breath for a few moments as the fight continued, and there had been at least another 20 seconds of fighting before Clinton got Cox wrestled to the ground, just as Kateri managed to drag herself back to her feet.

_Bloody h**l, that hurt._

_Still hurts_. Kateri felt like she had landed on something hard, slammed her back against something on the ground, and there was a throbbing pain low in her back. _That’s not good. Bloody h**l, that hurts._

_Where’s my gun?_

The rest of the team along with a local SWAT team helping clear the rest of the warehouse were elsewhere in the sprawling complex, and for the moment the two agents were alone. Cox was down on the floor with a knee in his back but was still wiggling and struggling and screaming curses like a banshee, inhibiting Clinton from getting the cuffs on quickly.

Kateri knew that she should go and help her partner, but though she was back on her feet, she was still getting her breath back, and her back was still throbbing in pain, making bending over to look for her gun or get her backup an unpleasant idea.

_Bloody h**l._

_That hurts._

_‘ll have to get that looked at._

_Once all this is over_.

Kateri would never know what exactly caught her attention and made her look up and right but look up and right she did. A bolt of horror shot through her. Deserted warehouses were prime territories for all kinds of nasty dealings—drug deals, drug dens, etc.—and stumble into someone’s haunt they apparently had. Probably drawn by the noise of the fight and Cox’s howling, a Hispanic ( _??_ )— _light’s too bad to see clearly_ —man half-covered in tattoos was emerging from the shadows of a stack of crates, gun-drawn and ready to fire, pointed at Clinton’s unprotected back.

He didn’t seem to have seen Kateri.

_Bloody, bloody, bloody h**l._

Less than twenty feet separated the gunman from Clinton, and only half that distance separated Kateri from the gunman.

Of all the times had needed her gun was now, but she did not have it, and there was no time to go for her back-up gun. Clinton could die if she tried.

_Knife on my belt._

_Gun up and ready._

_Could fire before I’d close._

_Bigger than me anyway, and I’m hurt._

_Not good odds in a fight._

In the split-second she had to consider the scene, Kateri saw only one choice. There was no time to shout a warning.

No time

No time.

_You saved my life._

_Now it’s my turn._

_Whatever the cost._ That they were in a warehouse almost seemed prophetic like things were coming full-circle after THE incident the previous year.

Adrenaline fueled Kateri’s steps as she forced her aching into a run, interposing herself into the line of fire just in time.

The explosive crack of the handgun going off rang out in the warehouse, echoing off the metal ceiling in a cacophony of noise.

A Kevlar vest did not make one invincible, nor could it fully protect one from any injury from a bullet. The force of the bullet impacting the left side of Kateri’s vest felt like getting hit in the chest with a sledgehammer.

Kateri crashed to the cold, dirty concrete floor of the warehouse with a cry of agony, and the sound and feel of her ribs crunching seemed, to her, to be almost as loud as that of the gun going off. The impact of the floor and the feel of her ribs breaking added a knife thrust of pain to her chest as she collapsed in a sprawl of limbs and lay deathly still.

There was no dramatic music, just the sound of her own gasping breaths loud in her own ears. Only a second or two had passed since the shot went off and she had gone down, but she hoped it was enough.

_Please God, let it be enough!_

It was.

“KATERI!”

Two more shots rang out, and from her position on the floor, Kateri saw her shooter fall, the back of his head exploding in a spray of gore.

 _I’ve never heard him scream before_ was the main thought that flew through her head in the moment. Clinton had called her name plenty of times, shouted it more than a few, but never screamed it.

Breathing had become an all-consuming task. Her head had come to rest on one outstretched arm, some protection from the grime of the floor. She wanted to feel for a wound, see if the bullet had penetrated her vest, but it took concentration just to keep breathing when every single, gasping breath felt like was someone was twisting a knife deeper into her chest. Every bit of medical knowledge and experience she had told her she was in big trouble.

_Broken ribs._

_Maybe kidneys with that hit on back._

_Keep breathing_. She told herself. _Just keep breathing_.

Suddenly Clinton was there, kneeling at her side, his eyes full of pain and horror.

_When did he move?_

_I didn’t see him move._

One hand went to his ear, “Agent down. I need a medic.”

Kateri fixed her eyes on his face. She had been severely injured only once before (during her time with Organized Crime)— _hence experience patching ‘self up_ —and she knew she needed something to focus on to help keep the darkness at bay.

Experienced hands checked over each limb and then her abdomen, looking for a wound or a bullet caught in her vest. From her breathing— _I can hear how bad it sounds_ —it was clear that a rib injury was involved, but Clinton was checking for any and all injuries. _Did it penetrate my vest, hurt ribs and do other damage?_

Kateri tried to force a few words out of her mouth, wanted to say something to alleviate the pain in her partner’s eyes, but all that came out was an explosion of frothy blood when the effort sent her into a coughing fit. The blood coated her mouth with its disgusting copper taste and dribbled out the corners of her mouth and splattered across her cheeks. The explosion of knife-like agony in her chest from the coughing whited out her vision for a moment. _Oh, bloody h**l, it hurts_. Tears trickled from her eyes, winding their way down her dark cheeks, making copper tracks in the blood.

“Hold on, kid. Hold on. Help’s coming,” said Clinton. He slipped one big hand over one of hers, and she held on with every ounce of strength she had left.

_It hurts._

_Oh, bloody h**l, it hurts._

_It hurts._

Every breath felt like a knife being driven into her chest— _twisted_ —and even with every fast, gasping breath, it felt like she couldn’t get enough air.

_Definitely broke some ribs._

_Did something to that lung._

_Is this what dying feels like?_

Another coughing fit wracked her body, and Kateri clung to her partner’s hand like a lifeline as her vision whited out again. The darkness receded after a moment, but not so far this time.

 _It hurts_.

_Je vous salue, Marie,_

_pleine de grâce_

_le Seigneur est avec vous ...  
_

“I know, kid. I know. Just hold on,” Clinton replied.

 _I said that out loud?_ Everything was getting muddled now.

“I’ve got you. Just hold on,” her partner’s eyes were anguished.

_He didn’t say I’ll be okay._

There was nothing he could do to help her. You couldn’t put pressed on an internal injury, couldn’t tie a tourniquet to stop bleeding. There was no wound to pack, no gauze to apply.

All there was to be done was wait for a medic to arrive. All Kateri could do was just trying to keep breathing.

Clinton said something else into his comm, but Kateri missed it over the roaring in her ears.

Kateri had enough medical training, enough experience patching herself up to know the damage of the impact of the bullet at close range had done internally, but trying to draw up that knowledge from the depths of her brain, beyond what she had already concluded, was getting harder.

 _Sludge for brain_ , was one muzzy thought.

Probably only a couple of minutes had passed since the first shot was fired.

 _It feels like hours_.

Another coughing fit wracked Kateri’s body, her back arching up off the floor for a moment. More blood exploded from her mouth, painting her face with more gore and even splattering onto her partner’s vest. Her lungs burned for air like she had been underwater too long, tried to swim too far just under the surface of the water.

The darkness was getting closer, peaceful darkness that promised a respite from the agony in her chest. _It hurts. It hurts_. Keeping her eyes open was getting harder, and Clinton had to tap her cheek hard when her eyes drifted shut against her will.

“Stay with me,” he almost begged. _Never heard him like this before_.

Kateri dragged her eyes open again. She was not a big talker, but now there were so many things she wished she had time left to say, wished she had said before, but she didn't have the strength to say them anymore.

 _I think I’m dying_.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” said Clinton. It was clear from the look on his face and in his eyes that he knew why Kateri was lying there … _dying in his arms almost …_ bleeding out internally. She knew he would have preferred to take the bullet himself than have her lying there ... _dying?_ She would have said the same if the situation had been reversed.

 _Yes, I bloody well should have!_ Her eyes flicked over to his right arm, where hidden under his vest, a thin scar still streaked across her partner’s arm, the one remaining physical memento of another ill-fated warehouse mission that had also nearly ended in disaster.

 _Won’t be a happy ending this time_.

It took three tries and one more explosion of bloody froth, but Kateri managed to force out a single word. “Fam’ly.” It wasn’t all she wanted to say—couldn’t fully get across the things she now wished she had said—but it was enough.

It would have to be enough.

 _I’d happily take a bullet for any of the team, but especially for you, Clinton. I never told you why. I wish I had now_. For a few moments, her thoughts were blessedly clear, though darkness kept encroaching into her vision.

Running footsteps cut off any further conversation.

Help had arrived.

 _Just keep breathing._ It was the refrain she had told herself so many times during panic attacks, but took on another meaning now.

_Just one more breath._

_Just one more breath._

_Just one more._

_One more._

_One more._

_One more._

* * *

Kenny was on the opposite side of the warehouse with Hana when the shots rang out. The whole mission had seemed rather ill-fated from the start. Cop-killers (which had been unlucky before), warehouses (also jinxed), a mission starting a week after the anniversary of Angelyne’s death.

_Need I continue?_

Clearing the warehouse had begun without issue. It was broad daylight for starters, not dark like the last warehouse mission in May, where Kateri had accidently shot Clinton, while trying to take down a suspect who was on drugs, rather sadistic, covered in body armor, and seconds away from taking out Kateri, Hana, or the injured SWAT agent with them.

That mission had been a total SNAFU.

 _It was a miracle that it didn’t turn out worse_.

_Took a while before we stopped running wonky._

This warehouse was deserted save for old abandoned piles of stuff and what looked to be the forgotten treasures of a few junkies and completely silent, save for the periodic shouts of the agents clearing the space. It thankfully lacked the towering metal shelves that had proved so problematic and dangerous the previous year.

The crack of a gun going off shattered what silence there had been. It seemed somewhat distant but echoed in a way that made the exact distance hard to tell.

Two more shots rang out within seconds.

Then, a call came over the comms that no agent or cop ever wanted to hear. It was Clinton’s voice, profoundly shaken, “Agent down. I need a medic. Suspects are down.”

The instinctive concern that Kenny felt anytime shots were fired while the team was on a hunt turned into absolute, gut-wrenching dread.

_Oh, h**l, no._

_No_!

_Not Kat!_

_Suspects????_

_What the h**l?_

_We were only after one guy._

Clinton’s statement about multiple suspects forced Kenny and Hana to act under the assumption that there could be more hostiles in the warehouse. One teammate was already down, injures unknown. No one wanted more causalities. It took much longer than they would have liked to get to their teammates, but finally they did.

The scene was horrifying, and Kenny was sure the sight would be imprinted in his memory in techno-color for the rest of his life, was sure that it would be added to a list of nightmarish scenes, most of which had been due to his time in the army. His brain catalogued people and placements automatically, even while one part of him was stuck on the sheer horror of the scene playing out before him.

Cox, the team’s original target, lay on the ground, struggling and yelling, his hands cuffed behind his back. That was the first thing Kenny saw as he and Hana came around a corner into the large open space where the others were.

A few yards past Cox, Kateri was lying limply on the ground in an awkward sprawl of limbs. Her eyes were closed. Thick stands of blood coated her face and the curve of her throat. Clinton was kneeling at her side.

A few yards past them, another man was lying limply on the floor, half-lit up by a shaft of sunlight. From the huge pool of his blood around his head that Kenny saw as he got closer, it was clear that he was dead— _deader than dead_ —even before Kenny was close enough to see the two black holes in his forehead.

For a moment Kenny felt his gorge rise. He was no stranger to injuries, no stranger to blood and guts and gore. He had seen enough while deployed to give himself nightmares for the rest of his life. It was one thing when it was a low-life perp. It was a totally different thing when it was your teammate, one of your best friends, lying there ... almost looking more dead than alive.

 _Oh, Kat_.

_No, no, no._

_NO._

_Not Kat._

The medics arrived a few moments later, and Clinton was forced back from his partner’s side.

 _He looks like he got sucker punched_.

_Where are Jess and Barnes?_

Hana had gone to check on Cox, while Kenny went to the sniper’s side.

“What the h**l happened?” Kenny asked, “Are you hurt?” The other man’s hands were covered in blood, and there was blood on his vest as well. Kenny figured it was Kat’s blood, but now was not the time to make assumptions. _If both of ‘em …_

“He came out of nowhere,” Clinton replied, the slightest shake to his voice, gesturing toward the dead suspect … _the second and third shots. Must have been from him …_ , “My back was turned. … She took the bullet meant for me.”

In that moment, Kenny figured that if Kat died, Clinton was not going to forgive himself.

 _I’m not sure I would either if I were in his place_.

“Are you hurt?” Kenny asked again, more urgently this time, looking over the sniper again.

Clinton shook his head, “I’m not hurt.” He paused and nodded toward his partner who had been swarmed by the medics, who were alternating throwing out various pieces of medical jargon and yelling at Kat to stay awake. “It’s not good.” Now his voice really shook.

_I can’t understand half of what the medics are saying, and I can tell it’s bad._

_Never seen Clinton like this since his sister died_.

Jess and Barnes arrived, and the horror on their faces mirrored that on the faces of Kenny and the others. Kenny stepped away so that Jess could talk to his brother-in-law privately. SWAT took Cox away, still struggling and yelling. _Will you just shut up!_ Hana drifted back to Kenny’s side.

“What happened?” She asked, not having heard Clinton’s explanation, “How is she?”

“Not good,” Kenny replied. From the conversations drifting from the group of medics and the amount of medical equipment out, it was really not good. They were simply trying to stabilize her enough to move her as soon as the ambulance arrived, “Guy came out of nowhere. Clinton’s back was turned, maybe dealing with Cox. Kat took the bullet meant for Clinton.”

* * *

Hana did not like hospitals. _Does anyone really?_ It was not being in the hospital that was the problem— _I don’t have nosocomephobia_ —but it was the reason for the hospital visits in her line of work that always bothered her. Being a tech specialist and data analyst sometimes kept her off the front lines, but Hana had seen too many friends and colleagues die or nearly die.

_Any are too many!_

Kat survived the trip to Bellevue Hospital Center, one of the best Level 1 Trauma Facilities in the state. From one overheard conversation between two of the SWAT medics, that apparently was itself a miracle, and that only served to increase the dread in Hana’s heart. It really looked like the team was about to incur its first casualty, but if Kat were to have a chance, here was it.

 _Why her?_ Hana wanted to know. _Why her? It’s not fair._

After everything the other woman had gone through in her life, _why does it have to be her?_ Hana knew that on any mission any member of the team might not make it back. _I might not make it back_. It just didn’t seem fair at all that it was probably going to be Kat.

_She’s too young._

_Not even 33._

The team had been corralled into one of the family waiting rooms near the OR where Kat had been taken, and there they waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The waiting was probably the worst part.

The horrible coffee probably came a close second.

The whole team was in shock, but Clinton was the worst off. It was his partner who had come close to dying in his arms, who was lying in that OR fighting for her life. The sniper looked some combination of shell-shocked and sucker-punched.

After speaking with the doctors after the team’s arrival—apparently he was Kat’s medical proxy or medical power of attorney or something and that was something new Hana didn’t know about her teammate(s)—Clinton had sat in his chair for nearly an hour just starring at his hands—covered in his partner’s blood—before Jess had finally been able to prod him into going to get … somewhat … cleaned up.

Kat had no family to call, so it was just the team in the waiting room. There would be a few friends and a few other people to inform if she died ( _Billy the Kid, included_ ), Clinton had said, but no family to call.

The team was all she had in that regard.

_The rest of her family’s already passed._

_She might be with them soon._

The medics had pulled a crumpled .40 S&W slug from her vest, and a Glock 22 had been recovered from the other suspect’s body—they were still waiting on an ID for _who the h**l he is and what he might have been doing there. Probably a druggie from the look of him_. Kat’s body armor had been strong enough to keep the bullet from penetrating her body, but the shot had come at close enough range to break several of her ribs. When she had crashed to the floor, those broken ribs had done severe internal damage, or so the medics surmised …

_From the way she was coughing up blood?_

The surgery lasted for almost 6 hours. Hana’s seat was in-line with the waiting-room door and the hallway that led to the OR, and thus she was the first to see when the doctor finally appeared about 7pm. Her sudden start and fixed gaze out the door drew the attention of her teammates.

 _Whatever the news, having an end to the waiting will be good_.

“Family of Agent Wood?” The doctor asked, appearing in the doorway. He was a tall man—his head nearly bumped the door-frame—and older, perhaps in his 50s, Hana guessed. There was blood on his scrubs, and his face was grave, but not so grave that, she hoped, he came bearing the worst of news.

“We’re her team,” said Jess, rising from his seat next to Clinton but keeping one hand on the other man’s shoulder, “She has no living family.”

 _Expect for us._ Hana’s mind filled in.

“Agent Wood,” the doctor began, “made it through surgery.”

There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone.

“She’s still in very serious condition,” the doctor cautioned, “and the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, at least, will be critical”— _while there’s life, there’s hope_ —“The impact of the bullet and her fall broke four of her ribs on her left size. The bone fragments did severe damage to her left lung and also lacerated her liver, and the blow to her back also has caused a Grade 2 hematoma of her left kidney and a Grade 1 hematoma of her right kidney. We have inserted a chest tube and repaired the laceration to her liver and are currently watching her kidneys. The bleeding from her kidneys is minor for now, and considering her current condition, we are hoping that the bleeding will stop without further surgical intervention.”

_Blow to her back?_

_I thought she just got shot._

_She might not survive another surgery, you’re saying?_

“What are her odds?” Asked Barnes, her voice level but eyes shiny with tears.

“I don’t like to lay odds,” the doctor said, shaking his head, “I’ve seen patients miraculously pull through after the family was called in to say their goodbyes, and I’ve seen recovering patients suddenly take a turn for the worse. Agent Wood is young, and she’s in good physical condition.”

“Can we see her?” Asked Clinton, his voice shaky.

“Once she’s settled in the ICU, but only two visitors at a time.”

* * *

Once Kat had been settled in a bed in the ICU, the whole team rotated through to see her briefly. By the time they had all seen her, everyone was beyond exhausted, mentally, emotionally, and physically. They had been sitting in the hospital for over 6 hours, subsisting on nothing more than bad coffee and vending machine snacks. No one had had a real dinner, and most of them had not even had lunch.

_Not that we really felt like eating._

_Kinda need to, though_.

Clinton, unsurprisingly and understandably, wanted first watch to stay with his partner. Also, unsurprisingly, Jess was just as insistent on dragging his brother-in-law home to, at least, get some real food and some clothes unstained by his partner’s blood. (Clinton actually agreeing to get some sleep before coming back to the hospital was probably too much to hope for, Kenny judged.) _But if anyone can talk him into doing it, Jess can_.

The sniper agreed reluctantly after much arguing and after Kenny and Hana agreed to take first watch, with Hana going out to get the two of them some food quickly. Barnes needed to go home to her wife and daughter to get some sleep, but then she would come back to rejoin the others at the hospital and take second or third watch depending on when Clinton and Jess returned, while Hana and Kenny went home to get some sleep.

_We’ll trade off so Kat’s never alone._

Finally, the plans for the rest of the day were settled; the others had departed; and Kenny returned to the room and the uncomfortable chair and settled in for a long couple of hours.

Kat almost did not look like Kat anymore. She seemed so small and fragile nestled in the hospital bed. There were tubes and cords everywhere, and so many machines! IVs held fluids and bloods. Then there was the tube down her throat and the machine breathing for her.

Nurses came through from time to time, and Kenny overheard some bits and pieces of how the surgery had gone, facts that made him very glad Clinton was NOT there.

Apparently, she had coded twice on the table and nearly a third time.

She had also lost about a liter and a half of blood from all the internal bleeding.

 _That’s really, really bad_.

A nice nurse, trying to be helpful, advised him to talk to Kat or read to her since … apparently … she MIGHT be able to still hear him or something even while she was sedated.

And so, Kenny talked and talked and talked, waiting for Hana to return.

He told her that everyone else was okay and that everyone was rooting for her.

He told her that he had never seen Clinton so shaken so she d***ed well better be okay.

He told her that she was safe and was in the hospital and that they would not leave her alone.

He talked and talked until his throat was parched and Hana returned with food. They switched places then just long enough for him to scarf down a burger and a cup of real coffee, and then Kenny retook his seat at Kat’s side, Hana on the opposite side of the bed.

Lacking ideas for what else to talk about, Kenny looked around until he caught sight of Kat’s go-bag sitting in a corner. _Who brought that from the bus? Or did she have it in the car?_ Kat liked to read, and she often kept a book in her bag, not that she usually had much time to look at it while they were on a case, but sometimes on a long flight or drive home, he’d seen her pull it out.

Kenny grabbed her bag and brought it over next to his chair. With a quick apology in case he saw something he really wasn’t supposed to see—like underclothes or lady things … _shudder_ —he started searching for her book. He found it in the second compartment he unzipped, a small battered copy of _The Fellowship of the Ring_ with a bookmark, a small scrap of paper torn off what looked to be a draft of an AAR, set part way through.

Kat liked fantasy novels, he knew, and occasionally called it a form of escapism. They had watched all the movies after he had gotten laid up during the flying fridge incident, but Kenny had never read the books.

 _I guess I’ll get the chance now_.

Flipping open to where the bookmark was, he began:

“Chapter 9. At the sign of the Prancing Pony. Bree was the chief village of the Bree-Land, a small inhabited region, like an island in the empty lands round about. Besides Bree itself …”

* * *

Tali liked Friday nights. Friday nights were always special. She got to stay up until 10pm, since it wasn’t a school night and she didn’t have to get up realllllyyyyy early the next day to go to school. She also got to watch television EVEN IF she hadn’t finished her homework already.

Friday nights meant the weekend had finally arrived. Tali liked school and liked her friends at school, but weekends were always, by definition, awesomer. On weekends, she got to sleep in to her heart’s content ( _welllll, almost_ ). Grandma always made special breakfasts, and Tali got to do special things around the farm or otherwise, even if Dad and Uncle Clinton were still at work.

It was almost 8:30pm on a Friday night. Dad and Uncle Clint had been gone for about a week now on another case. There had been nothing interesting on TV to watch, and Tali was tired after a long week of school, so she had gone back upstairs to her room to play, instead.

Tali liked her room, also. Her room was not that big, though it was not that small either, and it had all that a 10-year old girl could want. She had a nice bed that was big enough for her and her giant collection of assorted stuffed animals of various species, though the collection overflowed into the basket at the foot of the bed, and some had now taken up resident on her chest of drawers. The bed was covered by a home-made quilt that Grandma had made, and Tali also had a special fuzzy, cuddly blanket for when she got cold or sad. Her favorite stuffed animal was [Wally](https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn%3AANd9GcScgdtMA0d6Nro-GY-S9Bhd5H_JSwqk1lUdkgjzU6Ydik10wS-E1cktdMujsW2k37dBuo-wOns&usqp=CAc), a giant teddy bear (for whom Wally the Falcon had been named). Mom had given Wally to her … before she left the last time.

Tali’s desk was covered with finished and half-finished homework, books, and her laptop. Across the raised desk’ shelf a row of pictures of Tali with her family and friends marched neatly. The bookcase by the window served as much to hold mementoes from all her time outside—colorful feathers, interesting leaves, a couple of shells, etc.—as it did to hold books.

And then there was her favorite bean bag chair right under the window … except when it got in the way when she wanted to get to her bookcase, and then it got moved and moved and moved all around the room.

Tali had not been back upstairs for that long when the slamming of a car door outside caught her attention.

_Daddy’s home!_

The book she had been looking at was put aside. She untangled herself from her nest of animals and pillows on her bed, stuffed her feet into her slippers, and hurried out into the hall. Tali had only made it half-way down the stairs to the main floor, when Grandma’s voice echoed sharply up in a near-shout.

“Tali, stay upstairs. Go back to your room.”

Tali obediently stopped dead in her tracks, feet pausing in their rush down the stairs. Her excitement at having her father home evaporated in an instant. She knew those words. The girl’s eyes widen with both surprise and fear.

Grandma was not one to shout, especially at her. It was November, too. The third anniversary of Mommy’s death had been just two weeks earlier, and the whole family had gone to the cemetery to lay gifts at her grave. When Mommy had died, it had started this way, too: a car door, and then Tali getting told to stay upstairs. There had been funny noises from downstairs that day, and then, Daddy had come to tell her that Mommy wasn’t coming back.

Eyes wide and heart afraid, Tali fled back to her room. She curled up in her nest of animals, fun and excitement forgotten, and tried not to cry.

_What if Daddy’s hurt?_

_Or Uncle Clinton?_

_Please be okay!_

It was nearly fifteen tortuously long minutes before the creak of footsteps drifted up the hall from the direction of the stairs. The way the house was, Tali had learned how to tell who was coming downstairs by their footsteps, but that trick only worked if she was also downstairs. The creaks sounded different when she was in her room or elsewhere upstairs. When she was upstairs, she could distinguish Grandma’s footsteps from the others, but it was very hard to tell Uncle Clint’s footsteps apart from Grandpa’s or Daddy’s. She held her breath, hoping the footsteps would stop at her door, hoping that someone would tell her what was going on. A few tears trickled down her cheeks.

The footsteps stopped. There was a knock at the door.

_Daddy’s knock!_

That was another thing that was always different. Daddy always knocked differently from Uncle Clint, who knocked differently from Grandma and Grandpa.

“Tali?” It was Daddy’s voice, and he sounded fine.

“Come in!” Tali called back. Her voice did not sound fine.

Tali scrambled to free herself from her pile of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals, almost catching her foot and tumbling off the bed in the process, as the door opened. Her father already appeared concerned as he entered, but his arms opened automatically to catch her as she did a flying leap off the bed into his arms.

“Daddy, you’re okay!” Tali exclaimed with a sniffle, burrowing her head into his chest.

“Of course, I’m okay, sweetheart,” said Daddy, hugging her tightly, managing to sit down even with an armful of 10-year old, "Why ..."

Tali’s explanation came out all in a rush of words, one spilling out over the next, before her father could even finish the question, “I heard the car door and thought you were home. I was coming downstairs, but then Grandma yelled and told me to stay upstairs in my room, and that’s how it happened when …” She broke off with another sniffle.

It was enough for Daddy to connect the dots, though, and the arms around her tightened and rocked her slightly. “… when Mom died.” Her father finished, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Your grandmother didn’t mean to shout. I forgot to warn her than your uncle and I were coming home.”

 _So, Uncle Clinton’s back, too._ Uncle Clint had an apartment of his own in the city, but he spent a lot of time at the farm. His room was just across the hall so Tali was a little surprised she hadn’t heard his footsteps, too, and that he hadn’t come by to say hi, either.

_Uncle Clinton always comes and says hi and hugs me._

Tali mulled over her father’s last sentence for a moment, but it still didn’t make any more sense than it had when Daddy first said it. “What do you mean?” She asked.

Daddy’s face went grave and a little sad, and Tali suddenly realized how tired her father looked. “Do you remember your uncle’s partner?”

“Miss Wood,” Tali replied, “She’s nice. Uncle Clinton talks about her a lot.” She had met all of her father and uncle’s teammates at least once, most of them several times. Miss Wood was shorter than Uncle Clinton with an unremarkable face, and her smile did not always meet her eyes. She was Mohawk, too.

“She was hurt earlier today, very badly,” Daddy replied, “while protecting your uncle, and the doctors aren’t sure if she’s going to make it.”

“Is Uncle Clinton okay?”

“Because of her, he is physically, but he’s really shaken up.”

Tali was not sure she wanted to know what that meant in terms of her nearly unflappable uncle.

“Can I go and see him?” Tali asked, tilting her head up so she could half see her father’s face, “Give him a hug?”

Daddy got that look on his face like whenever she did something that he thought was especially kind or sweet. “Not right now. He’s getting cleaned up, and then your grandma’s going to feed him. Maybe later before we go back to the hospital.”

_Cleaned up?_

_Prob’ly somethin’ I’m not supposed to know ‘bout_

“Okay. I hope she’ll be alright. She’s nice,” Tali said simply.

Daddy gave a sad, tired kind of sigh that made Tali a little worried for him, “We hope so, too, sweetie. I need to go back and check on your uncle. Will you be okay?”

Tali nodded, pulling back from using her father for a pillow and straightening up. She dried the last vestiges of her tears on a corner of her sleeve. “If I go get ready for bed early, will you tuck me in before you leave?”

Daddy smiled, “Of course.”

_Yayyy_

Daddy left after another minute, leaving the door of her room half-open, and a few voices drifted up the stairs, though Tali could not distinguish the words. Not knowing how quickly her father would want to return to the hospital, she sped through her bedtime routine, making sure to brush her teeth thoroughly and comb out her hair. _Hate it when I wake up with a head-full of tangles._ Daddy hadn’t come back upstairs by the time she was done, so she went back to her room.

A sudden thought occurred to Tali as she wondered what to do next. _I can make her a card like I did Mr. Kenny_! Mr. Kenny was one of Daddy’s other teammates. He had gotten hurt by a flying refrigerator two years earlier— _how does a fridge fly anyway? Never understood_ —and Tali had given him a card, too.

Tali had just finished making the card when her father called up the stairs, asking her to come down.

Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Clinton were standing in the living room by the stairs down from the dining room. Daddy was standing by the doorway between the living room and the stairs. Uncle Clinton’s back was turned, as he bent down to hug Grandma. Daddy leaned down to put his hands on Tali’s shoulders.

“We’re going back to the hospital in a few minutes. You can say goodbye to your uncle, and then I’ll tuck you in.”

Uncle Clinton turned away from Grandma and tried to smile at Tali, but his smile seemed forced. He was calm, but he looked like he might have been crying, and Uncle Clinton never cried. _Except when Mommy died and when we buried her_. He leaned down to hug her, too, and Tali wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, the card still clasped in one hand.

“I hope your partner will be okay, Uncle Clinton.”

Uncle Clinton pressed a kiss to her hair, and his voice was a little shaky when he replied, “Thank you, waténa.”[1]

“I made this card for her. Can you give it to her?” Tali passed across the carefully-made card.

Uncle Clinton’s eyes went shiny, and his voice was even rougher when he replied that he would. Tali hugged her grandparents goodnight quickly and then went back upstairs with Daddy to be tucked in before they left for the hospital.

“I don’t know how much I’ll be here tomorrow, sweetheart. We’re taking turns staying with Agent Wood until she wakes up,” Daddy explained, as he tucked the blankets around her and pulled Wally the Bear over within reach.

“She might be scared if she woke up by herself. I would be.”

Daddy nodded, “I’ll call you even if I can’t make it home, and if you need me, call, and I’ll come home immediately.”

* * *

[1] Mohawk. My niece.


	2. Saturday, November 23: Day 2

After spending a few minutes with an unconscious Kat and then somewhat regretfully parting from her teammates at the hospital, Sheryll returned home. Despite her fear and concern for her injured teammate, it was still a physical and mental relief just to be able to go home, to be able to kiss Charlotte and watch her daughter sleep peacefully, to get some clean clothes and real food. Through it all, there was still a specter hanging over Sheryll, however: the sight of her teammate lying in that bed back at that hospital, the knowledge that Kateri might never get to go home again herself.

_She seems so small, so fragile._

_So unlike her._

Clinton and Jess returned from the farm earlier than Sheryll had expected, so she was able to stay home to get a few precious hours of sleep. If Clinton had had his way, he would have never left the hospital in the first place, but Jess had, thankfully, overruled him.

_He needed real food and fresh clothes._

_Sleep was probably too much to hope for._

_I’ve never … seen him so shaken since Angelyne died._

It was 6am sharp when Sheryll returned to the hospital, caffeinated and relatively sharp after six hours of sleep. She and Charlotte had stayed up talking for a long time before going to bed, and it had taken a long time for Sheryll to finally drift off, images from the day flashing through her mind and haunting her thoughts. The sight of Kat, lying on the ground, surrounded by medics, blood leaking from her mouth with every wracking cough was not one any of the team was going to forget for a long time.

Sheryll took third shift at Kat’s bedside, while Jess and an even more-exhausted looking Clinton went off to get some food … and hopefully some sleep … _before he drops in his tracks_. In a few hours, Kenny and Hana would return to take Sheryll’s place, and depending on how Kat was doing at that point, _I’ll either stay for a while longer or go home for a little bit_.

Sitting at Kateri’s bedside was a familiar task, and the beeping of the heart monitor and the peculiar noises of the ventilator were both unfortunately familiar, as well. Between her time with the NYPD and her time with the FBI, Sheryll had sat at too many bedsides, but despite that familiarity, the job never got any easier.

_Never gets any easier waiting to see how the chips will fall._

Kat’s room was quiet save for the beeping of machines. The curtains were drawn, blocking out what light there was from the early morning sun, and the room door was shut, muting the noise from outside, the footsteps of passing individuals and the squeak of carts and wheelchairs. The room was so quiet that it almost seemed like a tomb.

Kat had survived the night, and her condition was so far unchanged, but like the night before, physically she was so still, so quiet, so weak visibly surrounding by machines that she seemed like a shade of her former self. _Almost five years with us, and I’ve never seen her like this before. Almost lifeless. Even when she’s been sick, it’s never been like this._ Next to Clinton, Kat was the least talkative member of the team and could easily blend into the background of a room, but that quiet was not indicative of a corresponding lack of personality.

 _Just watch her face, her eyes, the play of emotions, and you can almost see the running commentary in her head that she’d never say aloud_.

There was something about the quietness of the room and the seriousness of the situation that lent itself to introspection and … to remembrance, and Sheryll let herself study her teammate and remember her early days with the team.

Kat’s quietness hid a profound depth of feeling, kept concealed by protective instincts learned during a hard childhood. _And I only know a small part, I think._ Kat cared, sometimes too much. She could get so devoted to her work during a case that she strayed into a rut of single-minded focus that almost could turn self-destructive—forgetting to eat, being the primary case in point. _Or to drink something besides coffee, though that might be a fault of us all some days._

And for Kat, even the stillness was so utterly foreign. She sometimes seemed to have the patience of a saint and could stand the longest of stake-outs without complaining, even if the length would drive the others crazy, but even then, she was rarely still. Kat’s hands always moved. When she was thinking, when she was nervous, when she was angry or upset, when she was tired, and sometimes even when she was talking, her hands just moved. Occasionally, the movements seemed to be her softly tapping out a beat to the music running through her head. Many of her other gestures seemed to be tics, nervous or otherwise, never squelched, but some of her movements, especially while talking, occasionally made Sheryll wonder if she had grown up with someone hard of hearing.

 _My mother would have said Kat was one of those who couldn’t talk if you made her sit on her hands_.

 _Clinton could probably list off most of her tics and what each of them means_.

_…_

_Probably? Of course he could. Those two sometimes talk and move as if they're two halves of the same whole._

_Hence Kenny’s jokes about their mind-meld._

In another three months, it would be the fifth anniversary of Kat’s first mission with the team, though in a non-official capacity. It had been February 2015 when Kat had been loaned out from Organized Crime to assist the Fugitive Response Team on a case that had gang-ties beyond the scope of Sheryll’s own know-how. Unlike Jess, who had seen something in Kat from the start as he had had with Kenny, Sheryll had not been as accepting of his choice to recruit the Organized Crime agent into the team. The team had its own way of doing things, its own lingo, and Sheryll had been quite concerned that bringing in a sixth member would upset the balance and throw their well-oiled cogs out of balance.

Despite the … _unusual circumstances of meeting her that first day_ …, Sheryll never would have dreamed of denying the other woman’s competence at her job in her field—despite the idiocy and incompetence of many of her former boss and coworkers … _from all the stories she’s told and the tidbits she’s shared sometimes unwittingly_ —or her ability, but it was her inexperience and lack of comfort working with a competent team that had primarily worried Sheryll. Kat almost had a loner attitude when it came to her undercover work and had made it work in the past, but it was not a good attitude to have if she were to work hunting fugitives with the team. So much of the team’s success was built on its ability to work together, to use their weakness and strengths to complement each other in order to build a stronger and more successful whole. Every team member had his or her own strength and area of expertise, and together the team was almost unstoppable.

The first month with Kat as a teammate had been awkward somewhat. On a personal level, there had not been a lot of problems. She was brilliant in her chosen niche with a deeply personal understanding of local gangs and mobs and their mindset that was almost scary … _especially her friendship with Billy Suarez …_ until the team learned a few more things about her past and her former unit … _both from what she’d say and did NOT say_ … and then it was understandable but sad. Kat was polite, always willing to lend a hand, and a decent conversationalist, though somewhat unused to team social settings with a near ever-present wary look in her eyes that made Sheryll’s mother-bear instincts rise. _Seen it before back in the NYPD when I worked the street before I made detective._ When roused, Kat had a cutting temper, but that fault to some degree or another was common to them all.

Yet, on a work level, there had been growing pains. Kat was unused to work with a competent team and preferred to work alone, despite getting along personally with Clinton who had gotten saddled with the newbie as a permanent partner, which caused more than a little friction at times. She frequently had to be reminded that running off alone to talk to sources or hunt down leads … sometimes without remembering to tell the others … was a big no-no. _Given her former team, she was too used to having to do something herself … if she wanted it done and done right._ On non-gang related cases, she struggled to find her niche and her place with the team. Once those growing pains had passed, she had fit in well.

_Just gave us all a few grey hairs first … Clinton most of all._

It had been interesting to watch the close bond between the two develop over the years. They were very close, even for partners, and Sheryll had a bad feeling that nothing would ever be the same for the quiet sniper if his partner died. During hunts, where one was, the other was usually to be found in close proximity. They had a hilarious ability to almost finish each other’s sentences at times or have conversations in what looked to only be shrugs, facial expressions, and half-sentences, or so it seemed to the others. Kenny had once labeled it their “mind-meld, partner thingy,” but Kat had rolled her eyes, laughed, and blamed it on “basically living in each other’s back-pocket for days on end.”

_The “mind-meld, partner thingy,” it shall forever be remembered as, I think._

Their relationship was interesting, Sheryll thought. The people-watching instinct in her, bred by time working undercover, found watching them informative and intriguing in turn. (Being able to watch them without Kat noticing had also been a good test of her skills and a way to keep them sharp. _She’s d**n good. Has almost a 6 th sense for when someone’s looking at her._) Sometimes Clinton and Kateri seemed like normal, though quite close, partners, and then Kat would get hurt or do something … _like forgetting to eat_ … that made Clinton start fussing … _almost paternally._

One of Sheryll’s favorite private memories of the two had taken place less than two months before during the hunt for Doug Timmons, the Pocono Pines school shooting survivor, whose untreated PTSS had helped push him over the edge towards self-destruction. The team had flown back very late from Erie, Pennsylvania, to New York City. Everyone was tired, and the youngsters had sacked out almost immediately. Kat, who had as usual taken a seat next to her partner, had fallen asleep in a very awkward position, _which would have almost ensured that she woke up with a horrible crick in her neck. My neck hurt just looking at her_. Somehow Clinton had managed to shift himself and her so his partner ended up asleep on his shoulder, and somehow, he had managed to do it without waking her up meanwhile. Seeing Kat asleep on his shoulder, his arm around her slim shoulders, a look of quiet fondness on the sniper’s face had been sweet. _Don’t think he noticed me watching_.

_Sometimes I wonder … if there’s something more between them._

The morning passed slowly and quietly. Waiting was not easy when the stakes were so high. Life or death. Sheryll spent some of her shift reading to Kat from the copy of Lord of the Rings that had been found stuffed in her go-bag and which Kenny had made some good progress through during his and Hana’s shift. At other times, when she got tired of reading, Sheryll would just sit quietly holding the other woman’s hand or telling her stories about Anais. _So she knows she’s not alone._ Sheryll never tired of telling stories about her little girl, and Kat, despite her happily single status … _job doesn’t exactly leave much time for starting and maintaining a new relationship_ , liked seeing pictures and hearing stories about Tali and Anais.

Throughout the morning, Kat remained stable, if still in serious condition. It was not until about noon, early in Kenny and Hana’s second shift that Kat began to decline. It started while Sheryll had switched place with Hana while she went to the bathroom. The doctors came through to check on Kat, and this time there was slight pinch to their features, a concerned look in their eyes that, despite her overall condition, had not been there before.

The decline became more evident … and picked up speed … as the afternoon progressed and then passed into evening, and the doctors’ concerned looks became more and more evident, which only served to make Sheryll and the others more concerned.

Kat’s kidney function, already at concerning levels, slowly began to drop, and the slow bleed that the doctors had been hoping would stop on its own still continued.

Her oxygen stats, despite being on the ventilator, began to drop, and the doctors were forced to adjust the mixture being forced into her lungs.

Infection began to set into one or more of her wounds, and her temperature rose until her skin was burning with fever and a bright flush was seen on her cheeks.

Pneumonia, always a risk with intubated patients, also developed.

Then Kat’s blood pressure began to drop.

And then the doctors began to whisper their concerns about “organ failure” becoming a possibility.

Sheryll had hoped against hope that, despite the odds against her … _clear from what the doctor did and didn’t say that this would be a hard battle_ … that Kat would pull through, that she would prove herself to stubborn to die, but Sheryll was starting to fear that this was one battle Kat might not be able to win.

It did not seem fitting for the dynamic woman to just slowly fade away, going out with a whimper, not a bang.

The doctors’ frowns deepened as the evening waned, and their voices grew hushed whenever Sheryll or the others were within hearing distance, and she knew what they were being slow to say: _It doesn't look like this is a fight Kat’s going to win._

* * *

By nightfall, the doctors were starting to question whether Kat would even survive the night. It would have been beneficial to take her back into surgery, they said to deal with the kidney bleed and try find the source of the infection, but she no longer had the strength to survive such a procedure. Despite the antibiotics they were pumping into her and all the work of the doctors, she just continued to fade.

Clinton and Jess had retaken their seats at Kat’s side, and about 10pm Sheryll brought them some fresh tea and coffee. Just the visible change in her appearance was shocking, she was almost visibly physically fading. She looked even more frail and fragile _now than she did this morning_ , and the flush of fever lit up her cheeks with a deep red hue.

After Jess had taken the drinks from her hands and returned to his chair, Sheryll quietly called the sniper’s name and beckoned him out into the hall. Under pressure from his brother-in-law, Clinton had gotten some sleep—so Jess had said—but he still looked visibly exhausted and beaten-down, the strain of his partner’s injuries and the knowledge of why she was laying in that hospital bed weighing on him.

“Do you think it’s time?” Sheryll asked. Kat was a practicing and faithful Roman Catholic, and the question of when to call for her priest for Last Rites had been a question on their minds as the day dragged on. (Personally, Sheryll sometimes struggled to see how, with a job like they had, how one could still believe in God and a good God at that, but if Kat’s faith brought her some comfort, who was Sheryll to deny her that … _especially now … at the end_.)

Clinton had clearly not wanted that time to come, yet another sign of his partner losing the fight to live, but he nodded.

 _Almost seems like admitting defeat_.

“If you give me the number,” Sheryll replied gently, “I can call her priest, and you can stay with her.”

Clinton gratefully agreed and rattled off the number after quickly checking double-checking it on his phone. Sheryll returned to the waiting room, where Hana and Kenny were sitting, playing cards, and stepped into a quiet corner to make the call, the one they had all hoped wouldn’t need to be made.

The voice that answered was a pleasant baritone, rough with sleep, “Father Marks, speaking.”

“Father, my name is Sheryll Barnes with the FBI.”

“Agent Barnes, I was hoping I would not get this call for many years,” his voice was full of understanding, touched by grief. He seemed to know immediately who she was and whom she was calling about

“It’s not that call … not quite yet,” Sheryll replied, “but the doctors don’t think that she’ll last the night."

“What hospital are you at?” The priest answered immediately.

Sheryll gave the priest the information and then hung up. Just over half-an-hour later, a tall man, dressed in a priest’s cassock, with short-cropped hair that had probably once been red and was now mostly grey, appeared. He had a well-worn, grizzled face with a friendly expression that was touched by grief. Sheryll gave him the extremely abbreviated, non-confidential Cliff-notes version of what had happened, while Kenny slipped off to tell Clinton and Jess that the priest had arrived. The priest went off to do what he had come to do and then was forced to depart, instead of staying as he would have wished, to go help another parishioner.

Then Sheryll, Kenny, and Hana all settled back down in the waiting room.

There was nothing more that could be done now, it seemed.

Now it was time to wait.

Wait for the end.

_It’s not right that it’s going to end like this._

_It’s not fair._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no major character death in this story! Things get better in the next chapter, which will be posted on Tuesday the 7th.


	3. Sunday, November 24: Day 3

After the priest had given Kateri Last Rites and then departed, Clinton had returned to his partner’s bedside and declined to budge except for the occasional trip to the men’s room. Jess stayed with him, with them, and together they waited for the end. To say that the sniper was ‘shaken’ or even ‘badly shaken’ was the understatement of the millennia. Hearing that shot ring out as he cuffed the suspect, watching his partner fall, being able to do nothing to help her, to stop her from slowly drowning in her own blood … The last 48 hours had been the worst in his life since the death and funeral of his beloved little sister three years before.

Whether Kateri lived or died … and the latter was horrifically, gut-wrenchingly starting to seem the most likely … those minutes … the memories of those minutes … were going to live with him for the rest of his life.

And now … sitting by Kateri’s bedside in the final hours of Saturday night waiting for the end to come, it was almost more than Clinton could stand. Less than 48-hours ago, things had all been normal, and Kateri had been her usual good-natured, quiet, competent, if tired, self. But now … she looked like a shadow of her former self, lying in that hospital bed, tubes and machines everywhere. With the deep flush of fever in her cheeks, his partner seemed so very small and terribly fragile, which brought out all of Clinton’s protective instincts over her. Knowing that she was dying because she had chosen to take a bullet for him only made it worse. _It should have been me_. He would have a thousand times preferred to take that bullet, instead of having her injured get shot for his sake. _It should have been me_.

For almost five years, Clinton and Kateri had been friends and partners, and it just did not seem right that it should end like this. It seemed like just yesterday in some ways that Kateri had first worked with the team after being loaned out by Organized Crime … _without her knowledge … that was an interesting first meeting …_ to assist on a case with gang-ties beyond the scope of Barnes’ know-how. Kateri had a natural gift for undercover work that, at least, rivaled, if not surpassed, Barnes’ legendary and well-known talents and a staggeringly wide web of contacts, though her skills for working with a team had been rough around the edges.

Clinton had worked together primarily with Kateri on that first mission since he had been the only one without a regular partner. Barnes always went with Jess, blunting his brother-in-law’s rough edges and sometimes prickly temper… _with her talent for hand-holding, as Jess likes to say_ , and when she wasn’t in the bus working her magic on a computer, Hana and Kenny usually stuck together, leaving Clinton the odd man out, not that that fact had ever really bothered him. As a sniper, working alone did not bother him. After her recruitment by Jess, the two had been again assigned together, though Clinton had never seen Jess’ decision as saddling him with the newcomer. … Even if he had, it been one of the best things to happen in his life.

There had been kinks to work out in the field those first couple months, but the two had not had any trouble getting along … even before he stopped having heart attacks about Kat disappearing off on her own. _Kid, you’ve been the source of most of my grey hair._ The two partners shared some similar interests, had somewhat similar personalities, and shared a common heritage … and a common language. _The shock on her face when she realized I’d just read her notes … which weren’t in English … She’s always had an expressive face **.**_ Having someone else to speak Mohawk to besides his parents, especially after his sister had died, had been a real pleasure, as well as just watching Kateri’s skills that had gone rusty with age improve and seeing the joy on her face while being able to use it fluently again. _Being able to have private conversations in front of the others has also been useful sometimes._ There had been a learning curve on both sides when it came to working together, and both of them had had to learn to make adjustments and compromise, but they had both come out the stronger for it, Clinton thought.

Through copious amounts of time spent together on and off duty, Kateri had developed from just his partner with whom he was friendly into one of his closest friends and, privately, more recently into something more. Kateri was a good agent and very skilled at her work— _you’d be a fool to deny that_ —but she was not always the best at taking care of herself. In the beginning, what Kateri teased and called his ‘mother-henning’ had just been routine partner things. Partners knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses and watched each other’s backs. It had been a normal partner thing to check her over for injuries after a raid, to make sure she hadn’t forgotten to eat … again, to bring her tea instead of coffee when she was trying to do a Hana and survive on coffee, instead of sleep.

But then it wasn’t so normal anymore.

Due to the rigors and time constraints and dangers of job, Clinton had realized long ago that there was a good chance that he would not have a family or kids of his own. But then after that heart-attack inducing mission where Kateri had been kidnapped and the team had been in fear of what they would find when they found her, Clinton finally realized a few things that had been starring him smack in the face for a while: his friendship and partnership with Kateri was evolving into something more. He loved her. Not romantically … even the thought of her like that made his stomach flip … but paternally. Privately, Kateri had become the closest thing he would probably ever have to a daughter, though he had never spoken to her about the matter, not wanting to make their partnership awkward depending on her reaction.

Now he wished he had.

Despite all the setbacks and mishaps in her personal life and her career with the FBI before the team, Kateri had survived and come out the stronger. The old phrase “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” applied well to her, but this was one battle it seemed like his stubborn partner was not going to be able to beat.

That the date was less than three weeks since the anniversary of his sister’s death just made it worse.

 _As if Novembers weren’t hard enough_.

To lose his sister and his partner in the same month …

It was about 11pm on Saturday night when Kateri’s priest came by, and the final hour of Saturday ticked by slowly, and then Sunday began.

The ventilator kept her breathing steady and even, but that was just an illusion of health. Kateri’s fever continued to rise until the nurses had to bring in cooling blankets and just touching her hand felt almost like touching a stove.

Her vital signs slowly dropped, and Clinton’s heart sank, too.

The doctors’ faces grew grave, their voices more hushed.

 _The end is coming_.

_At least she’s not alone._

_We’re all here._

Clinton knew his partner very well, and likewise she knew him quite well. Five years as partners working together on the team and hours upon hours of long conversations during stake-outs and car-trips … _as well as the late-night talks after the bad missions_ … had taught each of them a lot about the others: about their personalities and likes and dislikes and quirks … and fears. Aside from a handful of people from her past, there were very few things that truly frightened Kateri. One was small spaces … _trap a child in a cedar chest and which one of us wouldn’t be claustrophobic?_ … a second was dying alone.

_You’re not alone, kid._

_We’re here with you._

_I won’t leave you._

_We’re with you until the end_.

Kateri’s condition slowly grew worse as the night deepened, as the fever and infection raging through her body began to sap any strength she had left, as her organs seemed to be on the verge of giving up the fight. The drugs they were giving her were either not working or simply not working fast enough to stall her decline.

_If things have to turn out like this, I think Kateri would prefer it this way._

_Dying on a Sunday_. She was the most religiously-minded person on the team, faithfully attending Mass as the team’s case-load allowed.

 _At least we get to be with her at the end_.

It wasn’t like with Angelyne where his poor little sister had died alone in a foreign country far from Jess, far from Tali, far from all of her family without the chance for them to say goodbye to her or her to them.

 _At least we get a chance to say goodbye._ Kateri wasn't conscious, but it was better than nothing.

 _Angie and I were due to talk on the 9th._ The two siblings had parted on good terms before she had left for Afghanistan the final time and when they had spoken with each other online the week before, but still Clinton regretted not having had the chance to say goodbye to his sister.

The time ticked by slowly, interminably slowly. Clinton wasn’t sure whether to each passing minute as a small victory for his stubborn partner or as a minute that drew her that much closer to death.

He was afraid it was the latter.

2am passed.

3am came and went, and the time ticked slowly on.

4am passed. Jess dozed off in his chair on the opposite side of the bed, but sleep refused to come for Clinton, a sliver of fear in his heart that death might finally claim his partner while he slept.

5am came and went. Still Kateri refused to admit defeat, even though her features … _that somehow seem to be ashen and fever bright at the same time_ … and her vital signs made her look as if she had one foot in the grave.

6am came and went. The kid was still breathing. Clinton wondered if the heat that burned through her skin might have lessened a fraction. A slow kernel of hope was slowly trying to take seed in Clinton’s heart that maybe, just maybe, there might be a different ending to this story after all, even though he told himself not to not to get his hopes up … just in case.

Dawn came at 7am, and Kateri had officially survived the night … though that did not mean the danger had passed by any stretch of the imagination.

8am came and went. The doctors were officially starting to get puzzled. Kateri’s fever had lessened from its dangerously high levels, though it was still high, and there had been little other improvement. The doctors were surprised that she had managed to hold on this long.

Time ticked on. The whole team was starting to grow hopeful now … not just Clinton … cautiously, very cautiously. Hour after hour had passed since the projected “won’t last the night,” and maybe, just maybe …

By early afternoon, the doctors were more than a little flummoxed. After ticking off most of the ‘I have one foot in the grave’ boxes, Kateri was still alive, if not exactly kicking. _As Kenny would probably say._ The team was overjoyed … cautiously because there were signs that Kateri might … just might … beat this after all.

As the afternoon continued, a new slate of antibiotics slowly began making headway against her pneumonia and the infection in her abdomen.

Clinton’s belief that her fever has lessened slightly a little before dawn, and her fever slowly dropped throughout the rest of the day, the fire raging across her body slowly being doused.

Her vitals began to improve … slightly, and the believed impending multi-system organ failure was no longer a danger.

 _There’s still hope_.

As Kenny put it, hope shining in his eyes, “I think she might be just too stubborn to die after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next two chapters on Thursday. The first is quite short, more of a transition than anything else, so you'll get two, instead of one.
> 
> In other news, this series is up to approximately 282 thousand words, including published and unpublished stories.


	4. Mon.-Wed., November 25-27: Days 4-6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 of 2 for the day. The other chapter will come in a few hours or so.

Despite all evidence that the outcome would be to the contrary, that her goose was cooked and her time up, Kat stubbornly refused to die like the doctors predicted. As Kenny put it, while talking to a run-down Clinton, “I think she might be just too stubborn to die after all.” _Stubborn as a mule, she is sometimes. Doesn’t know when to lay down and quit._ First, it was just an hour past the projected “won’t last the night,” and then two hours, then three, then six, then twelve, and then a full day, and then Sunday passed, and Monday dawned, and she was still alive and, though not exactly kicking, improving … extremely slowly. Considering the hole she had been in, there was a long way for her to go, but there was still improvement, and that was a victory in itself.

After facing a series of hard knocks in her life and refusing to admit defeat, Kat had met this battle as just one more in that list and seemed to have conquered … to everyone’s relief.

By the time Monday morning dawned, Kat’s vitals were slowly continuing to improve, and the slow bleed in her kidneys had finally, finally, finally stopped, which meant that her long list of doctors were cautiously optimistic that she MIGHT not need to be taken back to surgery. _One less thing to tax what strength she has left_. Monday passed more quickly than the interminably long night of Saturday into Sunday … _when we were almost waiting for Kat to die_. Her vitals and condition continued to improve throughout Monday, and Kenny and the others continued to breath just a little easier. The doctors emphasized that Kat was still in serious condition … _with her laundry list of injuries, who wouldn’t be?_ … but that she was making good improvements. _She’s young and strong and too stubborn to die._

The slow, very slow, improvement continued throughout Tuesday, and by Wednesday morning, the rest of the team started slowly switching out for longer and longer shifts. _Not that we’re going to leave her alone at all, not when she’s hurt this bad._ They also moved to only having one there per shift. There was no longer the overwhelming fear because Kat was so weak that something really bad might happen while they were gone and they might not make it back in time to say goodbye. _Thus, why we took up residence in the hospital for a couple of days basically_. Kenny, who had no family in the area and no Thanksgiving to start prepping for … _having lunch out with Hana doesn’t count_ … was happy to spend extra time with Kateri at the hospital.

 _She stayed with me that night two years ago after I nearly got done in by a fridge. No way I’m leaving her alone_. Now that his injuries had long faded, a slight amount of amusement accompanied memories of that event … of the irony of nearly getting smushed by a fridge of all d**n things, though that amusement was dampened by the surrounding events and repercussions of that horrible month. _December SNAFU of 2017, it shall remain_. Kenny and Kat had both healed physically, but for both of them, Kat especially, there would always be scars, both mental and physical, that would always remain.

Against the odds it looked like Kateri was going to live.

Now the waiting game came again.

Not the waiting for her to pass, as before.

But the waiting for her to wake up and to get better.

That made it a lot easier to wait.

_Still going to be a long wait._

_A bloody long wait, as Kat would say._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm not a doctor, a relation of a doctor, nor do I play one on TV. I have sought for semi-accuracy through internet research, but any medical mistakes or inaccuracies are my own.


	5. Wednesday, November 27: Day 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 of 2 for the day. Next update on Saturday.
> 
> There are flashbacks in this chapter. For flashbacks, regular narrative is in italics and personal thoughts are in regular type (reverse of how it usually is). Hope it's not too confusing.

By the time the SWAT medics arrived at last, Kateri’s thoughts were slipping away like water as she lay there on the cold concrete warehouse floor. She was struggling to think beyond the all-encompassing pain that knifed through her chest like fire every time she forced one more aching breath into her lungs. The pain was starting to spread through her abdomen and body, which she knew medically was bad **.** _This must be what it feels like to die_. Despite the fact that every breath was a struggle and the darkness was growing closer, the panic that had swept over Kateri earlier was fading. Now she just felt tired. She’d accepted long ago that her job was a dangerous one and that one day she just might die in the line of duty.

_Guess I ran out of those nine lives Billy said I’ve got._

_Clinton’s here._

_He’s okay._

_That’s all that matters now._

_I’m not alone._ Dying alone had always been something that terrified her.

_Heard Kenny, too._

Kateri felt a flare of regret over things she had said and wished she hadn’t— _me and my sharp tongue and hot temper_ —and things she had never said and wished she had, but even those thoughts and regrets were slipping away now.

_I guess that box of letters will be needed now_.

There was a box prominently set and prominently labeled sitting on her desk back in her apartment, full of letters for her teammates in the event of her death. Even those letters as many times as she had written them and rewritten them over the years didn’t say all she wished to say, but there was no changing things now. What she wished she had the courage to say to her partner wasn’t something she would say in a letter anyway.

_‘s a good death_.

Darkness was slowly encroaching into Kateri’s vision, narrowing it and narrowing it. Her head slipped to the side until she was starring up toward a distant window and the shaft of light streaming through.

_‘s a good death_.

The medics were yelling at her, pulling out every trick in the book to keep her awake, but even the pain of their ministrations and their tried-and-true painful methods of trying to keep patients awake—sternal rubs and pinched ears—couldn’t keep the darkness at bay.

_Least Clint’ns ‘kay._

The darkness encroached further, and finally consciousness fled.

* * *

_The bell marking the end of the period rang, and an 8-year old Kateri looked up, excited. English was over for the day, which the little girl thought was seriously awesome. Having not started learning English until the last year or two, French and Mohawk were so much easier and made so much more sense to her than English with its complexities and irregularities and strange words that she heard the other children use. Now it was time for math, and Kateri liked math._

I hope I got a good grade on my worksheet.

I want to show it to Isdá[1] and Rakéni[2] at dinner.

_Mrs. Williams, a nice lady with dark skin who reminded Kateri of her late paternal grandmother, dismissed the class, and Kateri began to gather her pencils and notebook together slowly. The classroom for math was just down the hall, so she didn’t need to rush. She rubbed her eyes and yawned as she put her things away neatly in her bag, even though she’d have to pull them out again soon. Kateri had had a bad dream the previous night and hadn’t slept well and was very tired, as a result._

_A new lady, whom Kateri didn’t know, suddenly entered the room and crossed to Mrs. Williams’ desk, and the two began to talk quickly in hushed tones._ Must be grown-up stuff. _Then Mrs. Williams suddenly gave a gasp._

She looks sad. I hope she’s okay. _Kateri was a kind child with a soft heart, and she liked her teacher—liked all her teachers—even though she didn’t like the subject Mrs. Williams was teaching._

_“Kateri, honey. Can you come here, please?” Mrs. Williams called._

_Kateri finished stuffing her things into her bag and threaded her way through the maze of her and her classmates’ desks up to the front of the classroom._

_“Yes, ma’am?”_

I hope I’m not in trouble. I didn’t do anything bad at recess, even though Jeffrey was mean.

Just ‘cause I talk funny sometimes isn’t a reason to be mean. Not nice.

_Mrs. Williams gave a tremulous smile. Her eyes were shiney all of the sudden._ She looks like Isda when she’s about to cry. _“This is Miss Hudson from the principal’s office. She needs to talk with you.”_

_Kateri drew back a step, a frown crossing her small, expressive face. “I was good. I haven’t done anything.”_ And if Jeffrey said I did, it isn’t true.

_Miss Hudson smiled and reached out a hand, “You’re not in trouble, sweetie. I promise. Principal Wilkins wants to talk to you.”_

But I don’t want to.

I gotta go to math. I want my worksheet to show Isdá and Rakéni.

_“It’s almost time for math,” Kateri protested, her mind fixed on the promised worksheet and the reward, if she’d done well: a trip to the Central Park Zoo that coming weekend, “There’s something I need to show … Mom and Dad.” Remembering to use the English words was sometimes a struggle_.

_“I know, honey, but we need to talk to you.” Ms. Hudson repeated._

_Kateri hung her head and had to bite her lip to squash a tear. She had been looking forward to math all day. “Okay.”_

_Ms. Hudson took her hand and led her down several halls until they got to the principal’s office. The principal was there and the school nurse, who also talked to the kids when they were sad. Everyone looked sad, and Kateri began to feel a shred of fear._

_“Hello, Kateri,” the principal greeted her, “Why don’t you take a seat?”_

_“Good afternoon, sir,” Kateri knew to be on her best behavior. She clambered on to one of the big leather chairs that was made for people much bigger than her 8-year old self. Her legs swung back and forth, and she had to remember to keep them still._ Adults don’t like it when you fidget.

_“I’m afraid we have some bad news for you.”_

_Then, with just a few words, Kateri’s world came crashing down. Life would never be the same._

* * *

_The shove sent the 11-year old Kateri crashing to the ground so that she lay sprawling on the wet grass. The laughs of the children standing around rang in her ears along with the taunts—and slurs—of her tormentor and made her want to curl up in a ball and hide somewhere quiet, someplace where she’d be alone_ , _someplace lonely where she wouldn’t be teased or mocked for her skin color or her language ability._

_Children could be extremely cruel sometimes._

_“Hey!!” A new voice broke through the voices and the laughter, “What do you think you’re doin’ to her?” His words came out with a few more bad words than that._ Isdá would’ve washed my mouth out with soap if I said half of that. _Thinking of her late mother made the girl even sadder_.

_Kateri cracked an eye open warily, wary that another blow might fall, and saw a bigger boy, darker skinned than her with a long mane of shaggy black hair, shoving her tormentor backwards. “She’s just a kid. What do you think you’re doin’?” Yet again, there were multiple bad words that Kateri’s mother would have been very displeased to ever hear come out of her daughter’s mouth._

_A target who could actually fight back made the other children disperse, and the new boy returned and extended a hand to Kateri to help pull her up._

_“You okay?” He asked._ His accent’s funny. Most people think I’ve got a funny accent, too.

_Kateri let herself be pulled to her feet and shrugged, stuffing her muddy hands into her pockets._ Everything’s dirty now anyway. Mrs. H just did laundry. _She scuffed one toe in the dirt. “They’re always mean.” She finally said hesitantly._

_“Why they bein' like that?” He put it a little less politely than that._

_“I’m from Quebec. I’m First Nation,” Kateri replied shyly, “Joey’s mean because I’m different, and the others laugh, too. English makes my tongue get all tangled sometimes, and I sometimes forget to speak English at all.”_

_What her savior said next was very bad, too._ Isdá would wash your mouth out with soap for that, too.

_“Well,” the boy declared after a minute, “I’m Billy, and if you want to stick with me, I’ll take care of you. Promise.”_

_In the days that followed, that meeting seemed like the start to a life-long friendship, and it was a friendship that would change both their lives in many ways … both for good and for ill._

* * *

_“Things can’t continue like this, Billy,” Kateri declared, burrowing herself deeper into the depths of her coat and starring resolutely ahead._

_“Why not, chica?” Her childhood friend and long-time protector lounged beside her on the steps that led down from the park to street level. Despite wearing no coat, he seemed oblivious to the cold._

_“Because you keep getting into trouble,” she snapped back, “You’re my friend. You’ve been my friend since we were kids, but I don’t want to be a part of your life if you’re going to keep living like this.”_ Getting into trouble every time I turn around. You’re going where I can’t follow.

_“We all gotta make a living somehow,” was the rather blasé reply._ Christianly or not, sometimes I really want to hit you.

_“Then get a job. Go to college like I am this fall. Don’t keep getting in trouble like this. Do you know how much I spent bailing you out? No more.”_ I can’t do this anymore.

_That seemed to make an imprint on her companion, and Billy’s shoulder slumped, and his face visibly fell, a guilty look passing through his eyes. “I’ll make it up to you, Kit-Kat. I know you’re hurtin’ for cash. I didn’t mean to make things worse for you.”_

Why must you call me that?

_“You never do, Billy. You never do,” Kateri replied sadly, “You’re going down a path that I can’t follow. I’m going to make something of myself. I don’t want to be just the poor, troubled, colored foster kid anymore.”_

_“I’m going to make it big,” Billy protested, “I’ve got friends now. Stick with me, and I’ll take care of you, just like when we were young, just like I promised.”_

_“I can’t do that, Billy. I can’t do that.”_

* * *

_The wind was whistling through the trees, when Kateri finally found her way through the maze of gravestones to her parents’ graves. Pulling her jacket tighter around herself, she sunk to the ground, wiping a few tears from her eyes._

_It took her a few moments to switch her mind out of English. Once it had been hard to switch her mind into English, but that had been before a decade of foster care in America where it was hard sometimes to find anyone who spoke anything but English_ … even finding someone who speaks French outside of school is hard … _before college, before work._

_“Hello, Isdá, Rakéni. I’m sorry I didn’t bring any flowers this time, but none of the ones are the shop were very nice.”_

_Despite the times she had done this before, Kateri still felt a little silly for talking to gravestones._

_“I’m sorry I haven’t come in a while. I’ve been so busy with school and work these past few years. I hope you’re proud of me. It’s been so hard since you died,” Kateri’s voice shook and almost broke, “I struggled so much, nearly got myself into a lot of trouble more than once. You always told me to choose my friends wisely.”_

_Kateri’s voice really broke that time both at the natural grief being at her parent’s grave and at the grief her now several year-long rift with Billy, her oldest friend, also raised._ I told you, Billy. I told you. You went off the rails, and I can’t follow you any longer. _She swiped her hands across her eyes roughly and dried her cheeks on the corner of her coat_. _“Worked my socks off. Even graduated college early. Got myself a good job. I’m making something of myself. Not going to be the poor foster kid with anger issues all my life. I’m going to help people. I’ve been accepted to the FBI Academy way down south in Virginia.”_

* * *

Beep . . . . . Beep . . . . . Beep . . . . . Beep

“Words … elven … Middle Earth … answered Gandalf. … importance.”

Beep . . . . . Beep . . . . . Beep . . . . . Beep

“Speak … enter … Narvi … Celebrimbor … pronounce … blasted names.”

Beep . . . . . Beep . . . . . Beep . . . . . Beep

“Plain … Gimli … passwords … can enter.”

Beep . . . . . Beep . . . . . Beep . . . . . Beep

“Dwarf-gates … special times … persons … Durin.”

Beep . . . . . Beep . . . . . Beep . . . . . Beep

“Only Aragorn … well … silent and unmoved.”

Beep . . . . . Beep . . . . . Beep . . . . . Beep

Consciousness slowly started to return, creeping back over Kateri as if she were on a wave drifting closer and closer to a sandy shore. The first thing that became apparent was the incessant, unending, annoying beeping sound in the background … of wherever she was. The second thing that she noticed was Kenny’s familiar voice.

_Kenny here. ‘m safe._ Was one muzzy thought.

Kateri drifted some more, slowly coming closer and closer to consciousness, and the beeps and her friend’s voice slowly got closer and louder and more clear as the moments passed.

“If you wish to know, I will tell you…”

_Why’s Kenny readin' Lord of the Rings?_ She muzzily wondered. As far as she knew he had no interest in fantasy literature, though he liked the movies … since action, adventure, cool weapons, etc. They’d watched all the Lord of the Rings movies previously while he was laid up after the fridge incident, though they hadn’t watched the Hobbit ones yet.

_Where am I?_

_Not at home, are we?_

For some indeterminate amount of time more, Kateri drifted and drifted but finally grew semi-with it enough to really start wondering where she was. Her brain felt like it was moving at the speed of crystallized molasses in the depth of winter, but finally she made the momentous decision of trying to open her eyes to figure out where she was and what was going on.

_What that beepin’ is …_

Opening her eyes proved to be an incredibly difficult task for Kateri, and it took multiple more periods of drifting before she actually managed to drag her eyes open even part way. _When’d they get so heavy?_ Her eyelids felt like the massive weights that were back at HQ that she sometimes saw Kenny lifting. The sorta floaty feeling she had also indicated she was probably on hefty pain medication. _‘m on the good stuff._ Warm, soft weights were draped over her, and there was a cool flow of air entering her nostrils.

Finally, Kateri succeeded at opening her eyes. The room revealed to her searching gaze was not her bedroom in her apartment, the bus, the team’s ready room, or the apartments of any of her teammates. She was in a hospital, which explained the horrible beeping noise— _a heart monitor_ —and the air flow— _you’re on ox’gen_. What time it was or what day it was, that was not clear. There was no clock visible, and the curtains across the window at one end of the room were drawn. On the rolling table where food trays were usually placed, there were a series of colorful cards, at least two of which bore Tali’s distinctive style. Kenny was sitting in a chair by her bedside, one head propped up on one fist, reading from a large book in his lap.

_He looks tired._

_Wh’a happened?_ Kateri tried to remember back to what had landed her in the hospital, before the dreams. The memories were there, she was sure, but they slipped away like water as she tried to latch hold of them. _What happened?_ She was just too tired to grab hold.

“Why are you reading Lord of the Rings to me?” Kateri tried to ask. When she tried to speak, her throat suddenly announced that it felt like she had attempted to gargle nails or had her throat slit with the dullest of dull butter knife and thus that she had pronunciation ability of a 2-year-old. Her question came out more like, “ie u re’din’ Lordda ‘ings ‘e?”

Kenny started violently like someone had clanged a pair of cymbals right beside his ear— _that’d be hillarious at other times_ —and his head flew up, eyes going wide in surprise.

“You’re awake.” His words sounded flabbergasted. “You’re awake!!!!!” Then look of sheer and utter relief crossed his face, replacing the surprise, “Bloody h**l, you’re awake.”

Even in her rather muddled state, Kateri felt a burst of dawning worry at the sheer surprise and relief at the simple fact she was awake. _Not good, whatever happened. Hope ev’ryone’s ‘kay._

Kenny reached across to press the call button, “One more thing to be thankful about tomorrow.” _Tom_ _orrow? What’s tomorrow?_

In the midst of slowly trying to interpret that statement— _sludge for brains_ —Kateri suddenly realized there was a teddy bear tucked under her right arm, the arm that did not have an IV in it. _How’d they now?_ Kateri had a secret fondness for teddy bears and still had a couple from her childhood tucked carefully away in a couple of boxes of treasures with what she had left of her parents’ things.

A parade of doctors and nurses arrived in a hurry before Kenny could say much more … about anything. There were copious applications of a horrible pen light— _I didn’t have a headache, but now I do_ —lots of questions about how she was feeling— _groggy and confused but only in a little pain, thanks to the good stuff_ —and what she remembered— _getting shot, I think, though not the circumstances … yet_ —various tests, including drawing blood and checking her breathing, which caused a sudden knife like pain that hurt like _all the bloody blue blazes. I guess I can add broken ribs to the list of injuries_. Again, she tried to latch on to the memories of what had happened to land her in that bed, but the memories slipped away like water as she tried to remember. _Later_.

During this long and tiring conference, multiple pointed looks were exchanged between one of the main doctors and Kenny, who was allowed to remain in the room at Kateri’s protestation when he was about to get kicked out. By the end of the meeting, Kateri was a little less groggy and muddled headed but still confused about what the h**l had happened and what was going on. One of the doctors— _learn names later. Too tired now_ —promised to have a long talk with her the next day once she was feeling stronger but made an aside comment that “you’re lucky to be still with us.” _I supposed to hear that?_

By the time the doctors/nurses left and Kenny had retaken his seat at her bedside, Kateri was just plain confused, trying to unwind in her exhausted mind what was going on and put together the scattered threads she was hearing with what pieces she remembered for the moment. Kenny helped her eat a few ice chips, which a nurse had brought to moisten her mouth and help with the pain in her throat, and finally Kateri was able to talk slightly more clearly.

“What day?” Kateri asked softly. _Don’t talk loud. Hurt’s less that way._

“Today is Wednesday the 27th. Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. You’ve been in the hospital for almost a week,” Kenny slouched back in his seat but kept one arm lying on the bed beside Kateri’s arm, almost close enough to touch. There was a depth of hidden pain in his almost-shiney eyes. Through various mishaps the last few years, the team had gotten unfortunately good at scarring each other half to death.

_Bloody h**l. Last I remember it was Friday_ _… I think_.

“Time?” The way the lights and curtains were, it was impossible to tell what time of day it was.

Kenny glanced down at his watch, “About 10pm. It’s past visiting hours, but since we’re law enforcement …” _Everyone’s being more accommodating_.

_Hospital for a week, ribs hurt and throat really bad, nearly died according to doc’ passing comment._

_What the h**l happened? I think I was shot? I think …_

Even just talking briefly was tiring. Kateri felt like she had once after a particularly bad case of the flu, felt like she only had a thimbleful of energy, which she had already half spent. _Not ready to sleep yet!!_ There was more she needed to know. _Where are the others?_ If she had been as badly hurt as she seemed to have been … _to be?_ … she would have expected Clinton’s presence, as well. _Overly-protective mother-hen that he can be_. Her thoughts were fond. Clinton was her partner, her best friend, and the closest thing she had to a father, not that she had ever worked up the courage to admit that to him. She knew the two of them were close friends. She knew that he was fond of her and quite protective, but that didn’t necessarily mean he would have similar feelings to her. And if he didn’t, work would get very awkward, very fast.

_Everything to gain if he feels similarly, but everything to lose if he doesn’t._

For Kateri, that was just too much of a risk.

And yet …

And yet …

A flash of memory swept over her of lying on a cold floor, as her partner knelt beside her, pain numbing her body and regret flooding her mind over things said and unsaid. Memories, it seemed, were like those words once on the tip of your tongue for an instant and were just as quickly forgotten … they came when you stopped searching for them.

_Maybe …_

_Maybe …_

“Everyone else okay?” Kateri asked, blinking tiredly and forcing her eyes back open after they fell shut against her will … again.

Kenny’s answering smile was equal-measure sad and relieved. “None of us were hurt, but they’ll be a lot better once I go call them.”

_Must be taking shifts._

“I was shot?”

Kenny nodded, face paling slightly, “Let me go call the others, but then I can give you the cliff notes … if you’re still awake.”

_Big if_.

Kateri nodded, and Kenny rose quietly, squeezing her hand quickly, and then stepped out into the hallway, pulling his phone from his pocket. He left the room door open, so she could hear snatches of the conversation even though his voice was soft.

“Hey, boss. It’s me. … What? No! No! She’s fine! … awake! … Doctors … tomorrow … okay! …”

_Tomorrow’s a new day._

_Forgot … to … ask … about … bear_.

* * *

[1] Mom in Mohawk. <https://kanienkeha.net/occupation/teiewennanetahkwas/>.

[2] Dad in Mohawk.


	6. Thursday, November 28: Day 7

Kateri was alone when she woke the next time. _Must have gone to sleep while Kenny was on the phone_. _Oh, well. Was a big if anyway. Someone’ll explain later._ There was a dim light filtering in around the curtains at one of the room, and the lights were low so Kateri guessed muzzily that it was still early. _I know I’m better if I don’t have company. Chairs are awful anyway_. She was pleasantly warm from the blanket tucked around her. The teddy bear— _who from?_ —was still tucked against her side, its fur soft and fuzzy on her arm. Tiredness was weighing her down, and lulled to sleep by the steady sound of her own heartbeat, her scattered thoughts slipped away, and Kateri let her eyes fall closed and soon drifted back to sleep.

Small noises in her room woke her sometime later, long-ingrained instincts warring with sheer exhaustion. Kateri dragged her eyes open. _Oh, only a nurse._ It was a little lighter in her room, but only a little. A middle-aged woman in nurse’s scrubs was standing by her bedside. She smiled kindly, saying quietly that she had just come in to check her vitals and draw some blood. _Glad I don’t mind needles. ‘Least not my finger gettin’ jabbed_. The nurse did her work quickly and deftly, and once she had left, Kateri soon fell asleep again.

It was fully light in the room— _or as light as it gets with the lights off and the curtains closed_ —when Kateri woke for the third time. She lay for a few moments with her eyes closed, just listening to her body and the sounds around her. _Still remember how to wake up without opening my eyes even after a pummeling._ Kateri thought that she felt a little bit stronger and a tiny bit less groggy, aside from the grogginess of sleep, every time she awoke. Hana was by her bedside this time, a tablet in her lap, and the tech analyst seemed just as utterly relieved to see Kateri awake.

_Must have been a doozy whatever happened._ Flashes had been coming back to her as the night passed as clearness of mind and tiny thimblefuls of strength had started to return, as well, in the minutes here and there _where I’ve actually been awake and not asleep_ and in the wisps of fading dreams when she awoke. Kateri, however, was still working to put together a full picture of what had happened those days ago to land her in the bed in this condition. _Hopefully get some answers soon_.

“Hey!” Hana’s voice was soft in deference to the surroundings, but her smile was almost blindingly bright. She leaned over momentarily to replace her tablet in the bag lying by her feet propped up against the leg of her chair. Just watching her bend over almost made Kateri’s ribs ache in sympathy. “How are you feeling?”

_How am I feeling?_

Kateri just blinked at her for a long moment. Her thoughts were clearer but still horrifically slow, and it took her a minute to process the signals that her body was sending her, signals muted and confused by the pain medicine that she had to be on and her own physical weakness.

“Tired,” Kateri finally replied, “Head’s little clearer. Hurts, but ‘m on the good stuff.”

_Broken ribs are the worst_. Even with the medicine she was on, every breath felt like someone was stabbing her in the chest with a sharp knife, and she had to remind herself not to make her breathing shallower in an attempt to compensate and lessen the pain. _Just get you into trouble._

Hana gave a commiserating smile. She’d gotten herself into multiple scrapes during her time with the team before and after Kateri’s arrival. “That’s good. We’ll take progress.” She paused and then added, her voice rich with emotion, “You don’t know how good it is to see you awake.”

_Can kinda imagine from Kenny’s ‘action last night._

_Even if I haven’t gotten the full explanation yet._

“Everybody’s okay?” Kateri asked. She knew Kenny had answered that very question that the previous night, but … _it makes my ridiculous PTSS anxiety happy to ask_ , especially with how shook up everyone seemed.

Hana nodded, “You were the only one hurt, and everyone was a lot better after KC called us last night.”

“Clinton, too?” As memories of the events of THE event were slowly filtering back in to her, multiple times, Kateri remembered flashes of a dark warehouse, darkness broken by slivers of sunlight; a flash of a strange man overlaid with a sense of utter surprise and discomfiture; and then overwhelming fear for her partner.

“He’s okay. He’ll be by to see you later today. It’s not even 10 yet, and Jess said he was still asleep about an hour ago. I think this might be the first full night’s sleep he’s had all week.”

_Bloody h**l_.

“It was bad, wasn’t it?” Kateri asked slowly. _Nobody’s said anything specific, except for that reference of the doc’s, and I fell asleep before Kenny could explain, but I’m not that gone. I can still put the pieces together … The words, the looks, the relief in your faces, what you haven’t said …_

In an instant, the smile vanished from Hana’s expressive face. “Yea, it was. We thought we were going to lose you.”

_Double bloody h**l._

_Confirmation I almost kicked the bucket then …_

“Wellllll,” Kateri started … before her voice trailed off, as she blinked tiredly. _What do you say to that?_ “D**n. **”**

Hana shook her head, “I tell you that you almost died, and your first answer to ‘well, d**n.’”

_What were you expecting, ‘Well, bloody h**l.”_

_I’m too tired to be eloquent._

Kateri gave a half smile and a tiny shrug, which ended with a gasp of pain as the even the small movement pulled on healing stitches— _I know that feeling_ —and jolted her broken ribs, sending another bolt of pain through her abdomen. _Bloody h**l. Don’t do that again_. “Guess I’m running out of all those lives that Billy always said I’ve got.”

Hana went a little pale … _more than a little actually ..._ at that thought and quickly switched the conversation to a lighter topic. Given that it was Thanksgiving … _yes, I suppose it is since yesterday was Wednesday … so much for my plans …_ that lighter topic was food and, specifically, food preparation mishaps that some of her family back in Texas had been telling her stories about that week and stories of mishaps from past years, as well. The stories were amusing, but just mildly horrifying enough to a decent cook like Kateri not to make her laugh.

_No food poisoning involved. Good!_

_Relative who perennially sets off the smoke detector. That’s a classic. Done that at least once myself._

_Mashed potatoes as accidental wall decorations. One of my foster mothers did that … one of the better ones_. _Can’t even remember exactly what went wrong now that day._

_Forgetting the sugar in the sweets. Lorenzo and Ernesta had that once in a batch of ... something_.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to go home for Thanksgiving,” Kateri said softly as the flow of stories started to wind to a close. She had added little to the conversation, but listening to the stories, the soothing flow of words, was soothing.

_Because of me._

“Don’t be,” Hana shook her head decisively, “I wasn’t planning on going back this year even before all this.” She made an all-encompassing gesture with one hand that took in Kateri in her hospital bed and the whole hospital room.

“Hope you’re still getting to do something.”

“I am,” Hana quickly reassured her with a smile a nod, “Kenny and I are going to Boston Market for dinner later. About the best you can get in New York considering they’re no Cracker Barrels.” That remark got a disgusted grimace. “You would have been invited, of course, but …” She made another gesture that took in the room.

_Yea, that’s definitely a shame._

_Went there a couple times while I was down in DC/VA._

_Cracker Barrels are good. Good food, and not awful on the pocketbook._

The conversation between the two women was starting to wind down as Kateri’s strength was fading and tiredness was starting to encroach back over her, when there was a tap, tap, tap at the door. A tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a weathered face, whose head almost bumped the frame of the open door, had appeared in the doorway. He wore scrubs and a doctor’s coat, but he was too far away for Kateri’s tired eyes to make out the small type on his name-tag.

_My eyes are good, but not that good, ‘specially when I’m tired._

_I think I recognize him from last night._

_Everything was muzzy last night_.

_One of the parades of docs, I think._

“Good morning, Agent Wood, Agent Gibson,” the doctor greeted them with a pleasant smile and a soothing tone-of-voice, “If you wouldn’t mind stepping out for now, Agent Gibson, I’d like to talk to my patient.”

_This must be the promised discussion/explanation/thing_.

Hana nodded and rose, grabbing her bag off the floor. She reached out and patted Kateri’s right arm, which was undisturbed by her IV. “I’ll see you later, Kat. Clinton or one of us’ll be by this afternoon.”

When Hana had departed, the doctor took the seat she had vacated. “How are you feeling this morning, Agent Wood? I’m Doctor Miller. I’m in charge of your care, and I was one of the doctors who operated on you when you were first brought here last Friday.”

Kateri gave him the same answer she had told Hana, “Tired, but a little stronger, I think. It bloody hurts when I breathe, and the rest of my aches, but … I could be dead so …” _Don’t have much else to really say right now about it_.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” the doctor confirmed with a nod, “You gave your family quite a scare, and you tested the limits of my surgical abilities.”

_Bloody h**l. Not a limit you want to test._

“You’ve made definite improvement over the last three to four days,” the doctor continued, “I know you’re still tired and weak, so I’ll try to keep this brief, but I’ve treated a number of injured police officers and feds before, and they always like updates and facts, so I wanted to talk with you briefly about your condition and where we’re going from here. One of your teammates also said you were a medic?”

_Sounds about right …_

_I almost died, and now I’m not almost dead anymore._

_…_

_I can snark. That’s a sign of improvement._

_Kenny would probably be rolling his eyes so hard that they’d almost pop out of his head_.

“Not officially, but close enough. … Had a sense my injuries was bad,” Kateri murmured. Her throat was still quite sore, and trying to talk for a while had only made it hurt worse even with the ice chips Hana had helped her eat.

The doctor’s eyes sharpened in an instant, “You don’t remember what happened?”

“Yes and no,” Kateri whispered back, “Memories are there. Just been so tired, they were slipping away last night. Coming back in flashes and senses to me now.”

“Okay,” the doctor nodded, glancing down at the files in his lap, “Your labs from this morning were much improved, though your white blood cell count is still somewhat elevated, but your vitals are stable.”

_Elevated count means infection_.

_Ribs broken, so probably lung injury._

_Pneumonia?_

“How bad was it?” Kateri asked.

_Just give me the run-down and get the suspense over with_.

“Four broken ribs after being shot in the vest and suffering a heavy impact with the ground.”

_You saved my life. Now it’s my turn._

_Whatever the cost._

_One final dash_

_The crack of a bullet_

_A sledgehammer to the chest and a heavy fall_

_Crunch of bone and a knife-like pain_

“He was going to shoot my partner,” Kateri murmured, eyes distant, as the doctor’s words brought back another flash of memory, which explained her earlier bone-deep, instinctive fear for Clinton’s safety.

_Not on my watch._

_Not now._

_Not ever._

“That I didn’t know,” Doctor Miller replied, “I was only told as much as related to your injuries. Between the impact of the bullet and your fall, you broke four ribs on your left side, which while shifting lacerated your liver and punctured your lung, necessitating that we put in a chest tube to drain the blood and re-inflate your lung. That tube has by now been removed.”

_Bloody h**l_.

“You also received a blow to your back before you were shot,” the doc continued.

“Got body-slammed to the ground,” Kateri murmured.

“Mmm-hmmm, and that blow caused a Grade 2 hematoma of your left kidney and a Grade 1 hematoma of your right kidney.”

_Bloody h**l. Kidney bleed._ Kateri knew that much from her training. What exactly a Grade 2 versus a Grade 1 kidney hematoma was, she didn’t remember if she’d ever known in the first place.

“You were in surgery for six hours and nearly died multiple times. You’re quite lucky to be alive, Agent Wood.”

“That’s the sense I’ve been getting,” Kateri replied dryly.

_I guess I’ve got some work left to do_.

“Your condition remained stable for about 16 hours, before you began to go downhill. I won’t distress you with all the details, but though we did all we could for you, your condition deteriorated through Saturday and into Sunday—it’s Thanksgiving now—and your priest even came to give you Last Rites.”

_I really was almost a goner_.

“But, as one of your teammates put it, you were just too stubborn to die. We found the right antibiotics to beat back the infections, and you hung on.”

_Sounds like something Kenny’d say_. Kateri gave a half-smile at that.

“So, after that, your condition has improved slowly but steadily over the last few days,” Doctor Miller continued, occasionally double-checking things in what had to be Kateri’s chart. “You were removed from the ventilator Monday evening—the quicker we can get patients off them, the better—moved out of the ICU Tuesday evening, and then you roused from the sedation for the first time yesterday evening."

_Yay me._

“Where do we go from here?” Kateri asked, blinking tiredly. _So much talking_. “When can I go home?” _No place like home, ‘specially bed-wise_.

Doctor Miller noticed her tiredness and hastened to add, “I’ll make this quick, since I’ve already gone long enough. I knew you’d want an update, but we don’t need to go through everything right now or even today. It will be some days before we can even begin to think of releasing you. You’ll need respiratory therapy. I want to see all of your blood work completely normal. You’re still on supplemental oxygen right now, and we’ll want to see your stats normal without that. You’ll also need to be able to hold down a reasonable diet and be independently mobile, even though you’ll be on major restrictions and will need assistance at home.”

_The last one’ll be a bit complicated._

_Can figure that out LATER, though_.

“No bending over kinda things.”

Doctor Miller nodded. “You will be weak for a while, but you are making very encouraging strides. I’ll let you rest for now, unless you have any questions for me.”

Kateri shook her head, “Thanks.”

* * *

Lunch was brought not long after the doctor departed. _Wish I had my watch. Hard to judge how much time without it_. For Kateri, lunch was currently a liquid diet, a transitional diet after her major surgery, massive internal injuries, and days on a ventilator. Considering that there had been nothing in her stomach for a week, she was stuck on a clear liquid diet— _basically, for me, broth, gelatin, juice, and tea_ —until she showed she could tolerate that. _Anything to save me from eating gelatin._ Her stomach had shrunk, and she had very little appetite, but Kateri was able to hold down lunch—broth and weak tea. _One of the few things worse than simply living and breathing with broken ribs would be puking with broken ribs_.

Eventually, Kateri started to drift off again. _All I do is sleep_. _Need to heal._ When she woke again sometime later, around her there was the beeping of the heart monitor, the soft sound of pages flipping, and the squeak of wheels somewhat muted. _Maybe someone in the hallway_.

Slightly-less heavy eyelids were dragged opened at a slightly-faster rate than the previous day or even earlier that day. It was Clinton sitting by her bedside, book in his lap. _Flipping pages, not reading_. He looked put together but exhausted. _Even with the sleep Hana mentioned._

A long moment passed, but then finally Clinton looked up, saw her awake, which saved Kateri the trouble of speaking yet. _Throat still hurts. No wonder with tube down my throat for days and too much talking earlier_. A tired smile crossed his face and lit his eyes, mingling with a look of sheer and utter relief. He set his book aside on the flat covers beside her right leg and reached over to curl calloused fingers over her right hand.

_Still teddy bear there. Gotta ask him._

_So curious why someone got me? Brought me? A teddy bear._

“Hey, kid, how are you feeling?”

Kateri thought for a moment, then slowly replied, voice a little scratchy and rough, “Better. ‘m tired, been sleepin’ and sleepin’. Head’s little clearer. Hurts, but ‘m on the good stuff. Even blunts it a little when I breathe.”

“That’s good,” her partner replied, an indefinable tone in his voice. _I’m too tired, and he’s trying intentionally to not project_. “You gave us all quite a scare … You gave me quite a scare.”

_That’s probably the understatement of the millennia from what the doctor said._

Forcing a dry note of humor into her voice, Kateri replied, “You do look a little grayer.” Tired though she was, the mischievous grin that lit up her eyes for a moment and curled up the corners of her mouth was genuine.

_We’re not the chick-flick moment type, but this is like the other May in reverse._

_I was avoiding the deep, hard conversation then. Now you’re doing it, partner_. As badly as she had been hurt, Kateri knew the waiting period must have been indescribably awful for her teammates, she just wasn’t used to her partner avoiding issues. _That’s more my thing when my issues … are issues._

Not wanting to push the conversation before either of them was ready for the difficult parts … _if we get to them at all_ … Kateri asked what had been on and off her mind since the previous evening. “Why’s there a teddy bear?”

_Don’t wanna forget._

_Again._

Clinton gave a half-smile that actually didn’t seem forced. “Tali sent it for you. It’s one of her favorites. She said he always makes her feel better when she’s sick, so she hoped he would help you feel better and help keep you company.”

_Awwwww!_

“She’s a sweet kid,” Kateri replied, a soft smile lighting up her features as she gave the bear a gentle squeeze with her arm. “What’s his name?”

Her partner’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Albert, I think. She has a bed full, and they all have different names.”

_Knew there was a reason I liked this girl._

_I had a lot too when I was just a little kid._

_Doesn’t look like an Albert to me_ , _though_.

Kateri glanced back down at the bear, blinking tiredly, “Thank her, please. Tell her …” her voice trailed off with a wince, and Clinton had to help her eat a couple ice chips before she could force her voice to keep going, “I like him very much, I’ll be glad for his company, and I’ll take good care of him until I can send him back.”

_Multiple cards plus a teddy bear._

_Somehow, she must have heard what happened._

_Jess or Clinton must have told her something_.

Clinton smiled, “I’ll let her know when I get back. She’ll be very pleased to hear that."

“Sorry to keep you away from your folks on Thanksgiving.”

“You aren’t,” her partner’s voice was a mixture of firm and stern, and the look on his face was similar to the fondly exasperated ones he got when _I do something that makes him start mother-henning me_. “I’ve been at the farm most of the week. I’ve been with them all day, and I’m going back after I spend some time with you. I had no intention of not coming to see you today of all days after …” His voice trailed off, but it was clear what he was referring to.

_Jess must have been keeping an especially close eye on you. Glad for that_.

“Yes, mother,” a small smile slid over Kateri’s face.

His words stirred up a deep well of emotion in her heart and reminded her of the flashes of what had seemed to be her dying thoughts and the regret of what she’d said and left unsaid. For a moment, Kateri could feel the words she’d always wanted to say on the tip of her tongue, but then her fear and the remembrance of why she’d kept silent the last couple of years grabbed a hold of her again, and she let the words slip away. _Everything to gain, but everything to lose._

There was no hint of humor in Clinton’s face at her response, which puzzled Kateri. _He usually laughs or just glares at me and tries not to laugh when I say that_. “Hey, hey, look at me.” Only when she met his eyes did he continue. “I’d be here regardless of the day or the situation. You’re my partner, and you’re my friend. You’re not keeping me from spending time with the folks. Don’t ever think that.”

_You really are the best._

_I really got lucky when Jess recruited me_.

Kateri nodded. “Thanks,” she whispered.

_No, not lucky. Blessed_.

Clinton squeezed her hand gently and then relaxed back into his chair. “Besides, you’re saving me from a couple of hours of Thanksgiving football. I’d much rather be here with you.”

_Thought you liked football._

“Thought you liked football?”

“I do,” her partner replied, “but I wasn’t in the mood today.”

_After things like this, some normal things just seem a little harder_.

As with Hana earlier, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Heavy conversations would be saved for later when everybody was a little more ready for it. _If that day comes, for some of these conversations … Everything to gain, but everything to lose._

Today was a day for Thanksgiving, and everyone on the team had a lot to be thankful for.


	7. Epilogue

Kateri’s stay in the hospital passed slowly. She spent a lot of time sleeping as her body slowly healed, and most of her time awake seemed to be spent in therapy, respiratory or otherwise, or being prodded to walk here, there, and everywhere while dragging along her IV pole. (She knew she needed to get her strength back for life to keep going back to normal, but it still got a little old rather quickly.) All the walking did make her long for real clothes. _Not awful hospital gowns that make me feel half-naked and these scratchy robes!_ All of her teammates were there frequently, sometimes all or most of them coming by every day, keeping her company and encouraging her. (The team had been stood down from first in line for cases temporarily … _while there was a good chance that I was about to kick the bucket_ … but that respite was due to end soon.)

The final days of November drew to a close, and then December begun. Kateri had been in the hospital for ten long days … _a lot longer for the others than for me. Wasn’t conscious for a lot of it…_ and finally, FINALLY, the doctors were beginning to talk about when she might be able to go home. It wasn’t going to be for a bit longer, but the conversation was finally being floated, which was encouraging in itself. Kateri had a long list of requirements to meet before they would let her go home, but slowly and surely, she was meeting them. _Getting to go home … or anywhere but here … is good incentive for healing up_.

There was only one major problem to Kateri going back to her apartment. _Probably more than one, but at least one REALLY big problem_. With four broken ribs, Kateri was in for a six plus week recovery time … _for my ribs alone_ , and the massive incision across her abdomen through muscles and all would also take time to heal. Now that Kateri was strong enough to get out of bed and do somethings herself … like use the bathroom very carefully and slowly or shift from bed to chair also very carefully and slowly … _a few things without someone hovering at my shoulder_ … she could manage some things at home by herself.

However, there was an even longer list of things Kateri couldn’t do herself: no sports ( _don’t do that anyway_ ), no driving, no heavy lifting, no pushing anything, no pulling anything, no bending over, and the implications of that for day-to-day living were immense. _Amazing how little ten pounds actually is when you start having to measure things._ Kateri was going to need a lot of help on a day-to-day basis with basic household stuff. _Can’t do my laundry. Hanging up clothes might even be a pain. Can’t vacuum. Can’t grocery shop. Can’t get pans out of the cabinets. Can’t move my crockpot. Can’t load my dishwasher. Can’t clean like anything. Can’t change my sheets._ Riding the metro to get from place to place while healing from broken ribs would be absolutely insane for a number of reasons. _The crush of the crowd … Ugh!_

 _It’s like Kenny two years ago … just multiple times worse_.

Her teammates were more than willing to help out as much as possible, but once the team got put back on active rotation, there would be new hunts, and they wouldn’t always be there to help her. _And the help I need’s going to be day-to-day._ Two years ago, Kenny had been able to stay at his apartment during his recovery because he had a couple of buddies from his old unit and a couple of friends in adjoining apartments to help him out when the team was gone. Kateri … well, the team was about all she had.

The handful of friends or ‘friends’ she had outside the team weren’t good options for a number of reasons.

_So what’s the plan going to be?_

* * *

December 1 dawned. It was a Sunday, and Kateri wished fervently to be able to go to mass, although she knew that she was not anywhere strong enough for that yet … _or anytime soon, I expect._ _I think being laid up in the hospital is a serious enough reason for me to be excused for missing mass. **[1]**_ She prayed through the Rosary three times after breakfast and then settled down for another long day of being prodded to move and doing therapy of one kind or another. Sunday passed, and Monday began, and it was time for more puzzling on the housing problem for her recovery period. _The others can help me for some things, but the problem is what to do while they’re gone._

_I’ll have a string of restrictions a mile long. I couldn’t even wash out my crockpot by myself, or bloody move it either._

_Not allowed to drive. Riding the metro with broken ribs … that’d be disastrous._

_Hired help? …. Ugh, no! For a bloody large number of reasons._

Kateri was still mulling the issue over again as she had before—with a gap for a nap and lunch—when her partner appeared early in the afternoon. Clinton was continuing to look better, which pleased her, and not so much like he had gone days without much sleeping … _which he did …_ worrying over her … _while I was almost dying_. Over the last couple of days, the two partners had had a long talk about her taking a bullet for him— _he’d rather be shot than see me shot, and I’d rather be shot than see him shot_. Again, the words to explain what had been running through her mind in that warehouse—the more developed reasons why she had done what she had done besides the fact that he was her partner and her best friend and partners watched each other’s backs—came to her tongue but then died just as quickly on her lips before Kateri could get them out. _You’re scared_. She’d realized. _You’re scared. Everything to gain, but everything to lose._ The team and Clinton were most all she had family/friend-wise in the world, and the risk of losing it all … was almost too much to risk … _even for a chance at … a father?_ For now, she kept silent. 

Things were back to normal between them, or so it seemed. Clinton’s eyes were a little shadowed still sometimes, though, and other times he’d get a strange look on his face when he was looking at Kateri … _when he doesn’t realize I can see_. After a couple of days of that, Kateri came to the conclusion that he was going to be keeping a close eye on her for a long time. _Longer than after I got kidnapped_.

The conversation that Monday meandered among their usual common topics. The two had enough in common that they rarely had trouble finding something to talk about … _unless we’re having a really bad day_ , and if all else failed, comfortable silence worked for them, too, _though that’s more for long car trips for work_. Eventually, however, the conversation turned to Kateri’s current problem: the housing/help issue once she was released.

“I have a possible solution,” Clinton raised, “Jess and I were talking about it out at the farm the other day, and my folks had a suggestion.”

_Your parents?_

_Well … I’m kinda short on options right now, and they seemed nice and sensible … from like the two? three? times I’ve met ‘em_.

“I’m all ears. Kinda short on the options front.” Kateri had learned by now that shrugging or making most other normal body-language gestures that jolted her torso or pulled on the damaged or abused muscles in her chest and abdomen was a … less than pleasant thing to do at the moment especially when even just breathing hurt. Keeping expressions of puzzlement or acceptance or whatever else needed to be conveyed to her face was a lot less painful.

“My parents would like you to consider staying at the farm while you heal.” Clinton’s words were matter-of-fact, and the possible solution was short, sweet, and to the point. It was still a little hard for Kateri to believe … _no, not believe, comprehend …_ the words she was hearing.

_…_

_…_

_…_

_Wait, what?_

_Why?_

_I’ve only met ‘em a couple times. They don’t even know me._

_Why?_

“Why?” Kateri’s voice and face showed sincere puzzlement, “They don’t know me. I’ve met your parents like two … three times.”

“Jess and I tell stories … not private stories … about all of you,” Clinton replied, “So they do know you. Know of you.”

_Not that surprised. Our entire hunts aren’t doom, gloom, blood, and dead people. They’re some nicer moments that are story worthy._

_I’ve told a few stories myself._

_But still … why?_

“But why?” Kateri asked again.

“You saved my life, kid,” Clinton reached out to curl one hand over hers, “Helping you would be a small token of their thanks and appreciation.”

_They’ve already lost one child._

_Parents shouldn’t have to bury their children … any of ‘em, or worse, all of ‘em._

A half-frown, half-grimace crossed Kateri’s face, “They shouldn’t feel like they owe me.” _I don’t want them to feel like they owe me. It was almost automatic, what I did. He was going to shoot you, and I wasn’t going to let that happen. You’re my partner, the closest thing I have to a father. I couldn’t lose you._

“They don’t,” Clinton assured her, shaking his head, “but they would like to help you, kid. Mom and Dad won’t be offended if you say no, but I wouldn’t have raised this possibility if I didn’t think it weren’t a good option for you or if I thought you wouldn’t like it there.”

“I know that. I trust you,” Kateri protested, “It’s just …,” her voice trailed off, and she made a face, “What does Jess think about this?”

“He’s fine with it, or I wouldn’t be suggesting this to you.”

“And your parents really want to do this?”

“Yes, kid, they do,” Clinton’s patience was never-ending, _and sometimes he probably needs it to deal with me,_ “Angie broke two ribs once falling out of a tree when we were kids, so Mom’s familiar with the tricks and work arounds. There’s a guest room on the first floor so you wouldn’t even need to deal with any stairs … Well, except the two between the living room and the dining room.”

_Why are there steps between your living room and dining room?_

_That’s just plain weird._

The puzzlement must have shown on her face, since her partner added, “The house is built on a little bit of a slope.”

“Oh,” Kateri replied.

“You’d have company when you wanted it, and there’s the barn and plenty of grassy space behind the house and the barn if you wanted peace and quiet. And there’s also an outdoor cat,” her partner added.

 _Methinks you’re trying to convince me_.

“And they’re sure? I’m not going to be healed overnight.”

Clinton, whom Kateri sometimes thought should get nominated for sainthood, did not sigh or roll his eyes, just simply nodded and reiterated his earlier answers and explanations and assurances.

“Then yes. I gratefully accept.”

* * *

Finally, Thursday, December 5th, dawned. Only one more day to go, and then Kateri could go home. _Well, not home-home, but out of here, at least_. The generosity of the Skyes still somewhat astounded Kateri. In her mind, she hadn’t done anything special. She had just done what she knew without a shadow of a doubt that her partner would have done for her if the situation had been reversed.

It was going to be odd living out at the Skye’s farm for a while, living in the same house as her boss, but it was, hopefully, going to be a good kind of weird, a good kind of different. Kateri had met Mr. and Mrs. Skye a couple of times … _apart from at the funeral_ … and met Tali a couple of times, as well. Tali was a sweetheart, and Mr. and Mrs. Skye had seemed nice.

Kateri’s final full morning in the hospital passed quietly. There had been more respiratory therapy, which was painful but familiar by now, and the nurses had prodded her into walking two slow laps of the hallway. One of her doctors had told her that they would need to go over this afternoon … _everything that I should do and not do while recovering from four broken ribs and major surgery_ … as well as her medicines and all that.

_First rule of healing from fill-in-the-blank medical problem, do what the doctors’ say._

_Second rule, don’t do stupid. That would solve a lot of people’s problems regarding many issues._

Barnes appeared after lunch. (Mealtimes had become a lot more pleasant now that Kateri had been moved up to a soft diet, several steps closer to real food from liquids and the hated gelatin. The antibiotics she had been on earlier to finish clearing up the pneumonia and the infection in her abdomen had made her nauseous at times, but even that was starting to fade.)

Once the initial pleasantries and ‘how are you feelings’ had passed, the conversation turned to the reason for which Barnes had come: getting for Kateri from her apartment the clothes, toiletries, and … _other miscellaneous things that I need to survive recuperating in someone else’s house nowhere near my own apartment_.

“I won’t need a suitcase full of stuff,” Kateri said slowly, thinking aloud, “Not sure I even own a suitcase for that matter. I just live out of my backpack and/or duffle during work, and that’ll work here, too, as far as I’m concerned.”

_I think I had a suitcase a long time ago, but I think something happened to it a couple moves ago._

Barnes nodded, “You’ll only need those for transport, and that’ll be more flexible as that’s what you’re used to.”

“I think two-ish weeks of clothes’ll be enough. Kid in the house, you gotta do laundry more frequently. You know what I usually wear clothes-wise. There’s a make-up bag in my backpack that I use to hold my toothbrush and the like, and that can stay there. My personal laptop is on my desk in the living room. If you could grab that and its cord. There’s a bag of other cords also in my backpack. You can take out the extra gun stuff and med supplies I usually care, except for the bag with … personal supplies.”

Barnes finished scrawling that out on a small notebook. “Anything else?”

“My slippers are by my bed. My MP3 player is next to the clock next to my bed. Except for that just grab my running shoes that are at the end of my bed instead of my hiking boots. I’ve seen the Skye’s farm. I won’t need my clodhoppers for what I’ll have the strength to be doing.”

_Not going to be traipsing about in the woods or wading through who-knows-what._

_Running shoes’ll work just fine for going outside and doing normal walking_.

“Okay,” Barnes said, finishing making another note, “One last question, is there anything I should make sure to avoid seeing while I’m grabbing your stuff?”

_Hmmmmmmm…._

“Not that I can think of,” Kateri replied, facing twisting in thought for a moment, “I don’t leave things loose out when I head off on a case, and you’re not the snooping type and you don’t know the combination to my safe anyway, sooo no.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be back after a bit then.” Barnes rose to her feet and started to turn towards the door.

_Oh, wait!_

“Almost forgot, Clinton’s got my spare key, so you’ll need to get that if you haven’t already,” Kateri noted, eyes opening wide for a second in an ‘Oh, bother’ gesture.

Barnes smiled reassuringly, patting her pocket, “Got the key from him yesterday after you’d asked me if I’d make a run over.” With those words, she departed, and Kateri let her eyes slip closed. _I guess it’s time for another nap for lack of anything else to do._

* * *

After one nap of indeterminate length plus a half-hour of watching extremely boring TV, Barnes returned bearing Kateri’s backpack and duffle bag. The look on Barnes’ face was a mixture of concern and puzzlement, which immediately made Kateri do the non-moving version of sitting up and taking notice. _She went out to my apartment to get my clothes. There shouldn’t have been any problems … unless my annoying supe or noisy neighbors did a thing._

“Problem?” Kateri asked, a look of concern crossing her own face.

“I don’t know,” Barnes replied, setting the two bags down in a corner of the room where they would be out of the way and out of the walking path. _Last thing I need is to trip and fall and undo all the docs hard work_. “I had a very interesting meeting with one of your old friends while I was at your place.”

_Okay, not the supe or the neighbors …_

_By interesting I’m guessing you mean not the good kind of interesting._

_Old friends …_ _Billy?_

Kateri shifted slightly on the not-so comfortable hospital bed— _yet another reason to be glad about getting out of here_ —trying to find a more comfortable position, but a flare up of pain reminded her to be careful about once-casual movements and reminded her that her next dose of pain meds wouldn’t be for a while. _So, avoid sending yourself into agony that can’t be dulled for a bit_.

“Billy?” Kateri asked once the knife-edge of pain had dulled back to more manageable levels.

Barnes nodded.

_Bloody h**l. What’s he doing hanging around?_

_I thought I made it extremely clear after the Cleo Wilkins debacle that I come to him, not vice versa._

“What in all the bloody blue blazes did he want?” Kateri asked, annoyance creeping into her voice, “Did he cause a problem for you?”

Barnes shook her head, “He wasn’t in the friendliest of moods, but he’s not foolish enough to cause a scene in broad daylight in front of your apartment building.”

_In front of my apartment building?_

_Billy came all the way over there?_

“Okay, hold up,” Kateri held up her hands in the universal stop gesture, “Rewind. Start at the beginning. What the h**l happened exactly?”

“First of all, do you know you have Crew watching your apartment, Kat?”

_Uhhhhhh …_

Kateri raised an eyebrow, “Belmont’s Crew territory, and Billy knows where I live, so I frequently see Crew here and there when I’m out and about on normal things. They’re not watching me … uh, as far as I know. We’re just out in the same area.”

“No,” Barnes clarified, “I mean literally watching your apartment complex. They were hanging out around your building, recognized me on sight. Billy appeared within a few minutes.”

 _Okay, that’s new_.

“That hasn’t happened before, but something like this hasn’t really happened before either. Billy must have just gotten suspicious when he hadn’t seen me for a while,” Kateri mused, “Getting long even for me to be gone on a case.” _Best guess_.

“He must have,” Barnes agreed, “He remembered me from before and wanted to know where you were.”

“What did you tell him?”

_Please don’t have told him I was shot. Please._

“That you had been injured but were recovering elsewhere and that I’d come to get you some fresh clothes.”

Kateri gave a slight sigh of relief. “Okay, that’s good.” _I hope_. She didn’t want to say more in a more public space like the hospital. Her room door was shut, but sound-proof the room was not.

_Good thing that Billy doesn’t know more, ‘specially that I was shot._

_If the man who shot me wasn’t already dead and Billy found out, I have a feeling he’d be dead before he made it to trial_.

“He didn’t make any problems. He just asked about you,” Barnes summarized, “When I told him what he’d come to hear, he left, and I went up and got your things. Your clothes and your running shoes in a bag are in your duffle along with your slippers. I picked a couple books at random, and those along with your computer, MP3 Player, and assorted cords that you asked for are in your backpack. As you asked, I took out the extra supplies that you carry on cases but won’t need at the moment, but I left your make-up bag with your toothbrush and all that, which is in your backpack. The clothes for you to change in to tomorrow before you leave are at the top of your duffle, and the contents of your pockets minus the medical supplies are in one of the small interior pockets of your backpack. Your bag of feminine supplies is stuck in one end of your duffle.”

“My 19?”

“In its locked case under your clothes with an extra mag.”

Shooting a gun with broken ribs would be unpleasant, but Kateri preferred to have her gun and not need it, rather than need it and not have it.

“Thanks for the help,” Kateri replied, “I really appreciate it.”

“Glad to,” Barnes replied with a smile, “Should I give your spare key back to your partner?”

Kateri nodded. The two talked for a few more minutes, and then Barnes had to get on home. _Less than a day, and I’ll get out of here myself. Can’t come soon enough_.

* * *

[1] <https://www.vatican.va/archive/ccc_css/archive/catechism/p3s2c1a3.htm>

**Author's Note:**

> John 15:13: Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.  
> That verse is the inspiration for the title of this work.
> 
> As to the medical stuff in this story, I am not a doctor or a nurse and have no medical training. I did online research the best I could, and I'll post some of those links later.


End file.
